


This Will Be Our Year

by leannerd



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Fluff, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, M/M, Nonbinary Yamaguchi Tadashi, OT4, Other, Polyamory, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-03 12:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21179144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leannerd/pseuds/leannerd
Summary: In which Tsukishima, Kuroo, Akaashi, and Bokuto all work in the same building. Shenanigans ensue, romance blossoms, and Tsukki is eternally unprepared.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! This is my first Haikyuu!! fic but I'm OBSESSED with these four boys so I had to throw my two cents in. I'm not quite sure where this is going, there's no definite plot structure in mind, just some scenarios that I've been mulling over, so there may be some time gaps happening between chapters, but I'll try to make it pretty clear.
> 
> Also, I know Tsukki is slightly less salty than canon, but I hope you still like him in this. I relate heavily to his character and envision him softening up a little after some life experiences I'll potentially delve into at a later date.
> 
> Comments and critique are always welcome (I live for them, quite honestly) and if you have suggestions or requests for something you'd like to see, please let me know! I've got the rating set at T for now (mostly just for language) but we will see if I get the courage to write some smut...let me know if that's something you'd want to see! ;)
> 
> I'll be adding character and relationship tags as they become relevant.
> 
> Also, the title is from a song I was listening to on repeat while writing this which may or may not make an appearance later on in the fic.
> 
> Also, also, there will be multiple chapters obviously! AO3 is not letting me set this to "incomplete" right now but hopefully I can fix this soon!

Tsukishima Kei sips his lemonade and wonders vaguely how this has become his new normal.

_This_ being attempting to eat lunch while two of the three men sharing his booth loudly arm wrestle and the third makes a valiant effort to keep the other cups and bowls from being overturned. Again. He supposes it has something to do with a pair of impossibly large golden puppy dog eyes, a set of stupidly long eyelashes, and a devilish smirk and his inability to say no to any of them. 

Mostly he blames Kenma for not being present on the day that the three men stumbled into the IT department looking for a replacement laptop charger. He had gotten them the charger (he still wasn’t sure whose was broken or why all three of them needed to come retrieve it) and they had ended up inviting him to have lunch with them. At first Kei thought they were doing it to be nice to the new guy, or that they had really wanted Kenma to join them and he was just a suitable replacement, but they kept coming back, begging him to join them and three months later, it was just their routine.

Not that he minds spending time with the three of them, even though it’s hard to focus on anything when Bokuto and Kuroo’s shirt sleeves are rolled up and their arms are straining against each other. Not to mention, his height versus the size of their booth means his knee keeps brushing against Akaashi’s.

Kei is snapped out of his thoughts by a loud rattling and a series of triumphant hoots; he doesn't even have to look up to know that Bokuto’s won. He looks up anyway and is momentarily blinded by the black-and-white haired man’s dazzling smile. It’s trained right on him and Kei swears it’s like he’s riding a roller coaster. Or staring into the sun. Or riding a roller coaster into the sun.

“Best five out of seven!” Kuroo shouts, unable to accept defeat, per usual. Bokuto always wins these matches.

"Oh will you look at the time," Akaashi makes a show of pushing up the sleeve of his bright blue cardigan and staring at his naked wrist, sensing that Bokuto is about to agree to another match. "Looks like we've all got to get back to the office."

The walk between their favorite ramen shop to the office only takes a few minutes, but Bokuto is easily distracted and even though they see each other five days of the week, their post-lunch goodbyes always take forever, so the four of them always allow for extra time.

It’s a mild spring day, the air fragrant with blooming cherry blossoms, and Kei is more than content to walk next to Akaashi and watch Bokuto and Kuroo play rock, paper, scissors to decide which one of them gets a piggy-back ride the rest of the way home. So far they’ve tied twelve times. But they also have managed to walk a full block while playing rock, paper, scissors without tripping or running into anyone else, so Kei privately considers them both winners. 

The breeze picks up and Akaashi shivers slightly. Kei wonders how weird it would be if he just slipped his hand into Akaashi’s. He tightens his hand around the strap of his bag instead and when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Akaashi shove his hand into his cardigan pocket, he knows he made the right choice, even as he lets out a small sigh of disappointment.

“You’re quiet,” Akaashi remarks.

Kei trains his eyes forward where their two companions have given up on rock paper scissors and are now loudly discussing tree climbing tactics. “I’m always quiet,” he murmurs.

“Mm,” Akaashi hums in agreement. “True, but you usually have at least one or two snarky comments about those two idiots,” he nods his head in the direction of Kuroo and Bokuto.

“I’m just glad they’ve managed to put their two brain cells together long enough to decide that climbing trees in their work clothes is a bad idea,” he raises his voice a little at the end of this statement. They hear him and turn away from the tree they were inspecting, feigning innocence in the most conspicuous fashion possible, literally whistling with their hands clasped behind their backs. Kei has to bite back a smile as an unwelcome surge of affection washes over him. 

Akaashi turns his head slightly and gives Kei one of his half smiles that always makes Kei’s stomach do an obnoxious flip. “That’s better. I was worried you were getting sick on us.”

“Tsukki’s sick?” Kuroo is suddenly at Kei’s other side, leaning into his space, draping an arm over his shoulder. 

Kei rolls his eyes at the nickname, but has long since given up trying to forbid any of them from using it. “No, I’m not sick,” he shrugs Kuroo’s arm off his shoulder, not really because he wants to but because he doesn’t want to risk giving into the urge to snuggle into it. Kuroo’s smirk only widens as he links his arm through Kei’s instead. Sometimes Kei swears Kuroo knows what he’s doing, but then he reminds himself that Kuroo is like this with everyone.

“Good! Then you can join us tonight!” Bokuto practically shouts.

“For what?”

“The three D’s!” he crows.

Kei feels the blood rush up to his face and wonders if it’s possible to literally die from embarrassment. Kuroo, of course, notices the blush immediately and lets out one of his patented hyena cackles. 

“He means dinner, drinks, and dancing, gutter-head!” he howls, doing nothing to alleviate Kei’s embarrassment.

Bokuto, meanwhile, is clueless. “What did you think I meant, Tsukki?” This makes Kuroo laugh even harder.

Akaashi sighs, ignoring them both. “How about it?” he bumps his shoulder into Kei. “Bo landed a decent sale this week, so we’re going out to celebrate.”

“Decent?!” Bokuto squawks, offended. “Try amazing! Try incredible! Try top five in sales!”

“Try top three and maybe I’ll be impressed,” Akaashi teases, a mischievous glint in his blue-grey eyes.

“Fucking Oikawa,” Bokuto and Kuroo mutter in unison.

Kei chews the inside of his cheek, considering. Clubs aren’t really his scene, not since graduating university, anyway. But Yamaguchi will probably kill him if they find out that he had been invited to go out and instead spent another Friday night watching murder documentaries on Netflix. And Kenma might kill him too, since it’s likely that Kuroo will follow him down to the IT department loudly trying to convince him if he begs off.

“-do something else, if Tsukki doesn’t want to go out,” Bokuto’s voice breaks into Kei’s thoughts and, with a start, he realizes they’re already in the elevator making their way to the top floor.

This has become another part of their routine. When they come back to the office after lunch, they ride the elevator up to the fourth floor where Akaashi’s office and the rest of the HR department is located, then they make their way back down. Third floor, sales, where they drop off Bokuto, then to the first floor, accounting, where he and Kuroo depart. Kei then usually takes the stairs down to the basement since it gives him a little extra time to decompress after their normally-rowdy lunches.

“I’ll go,” Kei decides before his better judgement can overtake his desire to see Bokuto’s smile again.

Bokuto doesn’t disappoint, face splitting into an ear-to-ear grin. He also does a victory jump in the elevator that causes Kei to cast a worried glance at the emergency phone.

“Don’t worry,” Akaashi smiles, “It’s going to take a lot more than that to take down this elevator. Trust me, these morons have tried,” he says, as though that makes Kei feel any better. 

“Bye, ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto and Kuroo shout as Akaashi steps out on the fourth floor and the doors slide closed. Between the fourth and third floor, Bokuto and Kuroo have a jumping contest which, much to Kei’s relief, ends almost as quickly as it starts when they discover Kuroo is too tall to actually get any height in an elevator. After a very complicated series of high fives, handshakes, and fist bumps that makes up their “secret handshake,” Bokuto gets off on his floor.

“Here, give me your phone, I’ll program our numbers in.” Kuroo says holding out his hand. Against his better judgement, Kei unlocks it and hands it over to Kuroo who begins typing quickly. “I think you made Bo’s whole weekend,” he hands the phone back and leans back against the back wall of the elevator. 

“Mm,” Kei allows a small smile to cross his face. “Doesn’t seem to take much. He’s like a puppy- give him some food and attention and he’s happy as can be.” 

That makes Kuroo cackle and Kei enjoys the small sense of satisfaction he gets every time he makes Kuroo laugh.

"Big plans tonight?" Kenma says by way of greeting when Kei drops his bag by his desk. 

Kei stares at his boss, wondering (not for the first time) if Kenma can read minds. The shorter man hasn't looked up from his computer screen. He's hunched forward, blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun, delicate fingers typing furiously. Kei wonders if he forgot to eat lunch again.

"Kuroo texted me."

"Already? I literally left him upstairs two minutes ago."

Kenma shrugs. "He's pretty excited, I guess."

“Hm.” Kei hums noncommittally. He turns to retrieve his headphones out of his bag in order to hide the blush he can feel threatening to creep over his cheeks and ears.

“You’ll have fun,” Kenma states. 

Kei nods and puts his headphones in before he lets anything embarrassing slip, putting a random playlist on shuffle. A love song starts playing and he jams his finger down on the skip button. He skips another love song, and another, finally giving up and accepting that The Universe apparently wants him to pine hopelessly for the rest of the afternoon. It would be easy to switch playlists, but it’s easier to blame his stupid crush on The Universe.

It’s idiotic, how the mix of anticipation and nerves are already making his stomach hurt. He feels the way he did before his first date and that’s even more idiotic since it’s definitely not a date and it’s not like he’s never gone out with friends before. He huffs in annoyance and pulls his phone back out to text Yamaguchi. He knows his best friend and roommate will jump at the chance to help Kei pick out a going-out outfit for tonight.

At the same moment he presses send, his phone buzzes violently in his hand and Kei barely restrains himself from yelping and throwing the phone across the room.

**CatDaddyKuroo [1:13 pm]**  
_FUCK YEAH GROUP CHAT_

**CatDaddyKuroo [1:13 pm]**  
_HI TSUKKI!_

**Brokuto [1:13 pm]**  
_TSUKKI’S HERE?!_

**Brokuto [1:13 pm]**  
_WHERE R U TSUKKI???_

**SaintKeiji [1:14 pm]**  
_Probably questioning all of his life choices that have led to being trapped in a group chat with you two._

**SaintKeiji [1:14 pm] **  
_I apologize in advance, Tsukishima_

**Kei [1:14 pm]**  
_You’re not wrong, Akaashi. And thanks._

**Kei [1:14 pm]**  
_Also, Kuroo, wtf is with the names?_

**CatDaddyKuroo [1:15 pm]**  
_I have no idea what you’re talking about._

**CatDaddyKuroo [1:15 pm]**  
_But you better not change them!_

**Brokuto [1:15 pm]**  
_UGH SHIT GTG sales call_

**Brokuto [1:15 pm] **  
_BUT I AM SO EXCITED UR COMIN TONIGHT TSUKKI_

_[location sent]_

**Brokuto [1:15 pm]**  
_Come by anytime. We’ll walk to the restaurant around 630ish._

**CatDaddyKuroo [1:16 pm]**  
_Bring a change of clothes, just in case. ;)_

**Kei [1:16 pm]**  
_Is it too late to say I’m busy tonight?_

**Brokuto [1:16 pm]**  
_YES. UR STUCK WITH US._

**SaintKeiji [1:16 pm]**  
_A change of clothes probably wouldn’t hurt, tbh. It’d be easier if you just stay with us instead of going home drunk super late. _

**CatDaddyKuroo [1:17 pm]**  
_;) ;) ;)_

**Kei [1:17 pm]**  
_Ugh. Stop with the winky faces already. They’re creepy._

**Kei [1:17 pm]**  
_And fine, I’ll just plan on staying over if you guys are sure that’s ok._

**Brokuto [1:17 pm]**  
_FUCK YEA SLEEPOVER_

**CatDaddyKuroo [1:17 pm]**  
_FUCK YEA SLEEPOVER_

**Kei [1:18 pm]**  
_And on that creepy as fuck note, I’m going to get back to work. See you guys tonight._

Tsukki sighs as he puts his phone in his desk drawer and turns to start sifting through the emails that have come in while he was away from his desk. He can’t help but feel like he’s jumped headfirst into something he’s not entirely prepared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Yams makes their appearance, Tsukki's pierced, and the boys get their three D's on!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kei is a hot mess and overwhelmed by gay panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one was longer than I expected. Sorry if it feels rambly, but I couldn't figure out a good place to cut it down.
> 
> I'm obsessed with nonbinary biker Yama, so you can definitely expect to see more of them (and probably Yachi, Hinata, and Kageyama at some point) in the future! 
> 
> I love all of these idiots, but I have a such a special soft spot for a Tsukki/Bo pairing (maybe because I see their personalities so much in me and my husband? Spoiler alert: I'm Tsukki). I promise there will be plenty of time spent with all of them, though!
> 
> Also, can you tell I've got a thing for boys in skinny jeans???
> 
> As always, comments, suggestions, criticism are all welcome!

"I'm so excited you're going out tonight, Tsukki! You need to blow off some steam." Yamaguchi turns their head slightly to look up at Kei. 

"Keep your head still or I'm going to have to start over." Kei's deft fingers expertly work the third french braid and gather the rest of Yamaguchi's long hair into a messy bun, then sits back while his best friend holds up their phone on camera mode, inspecting the results. 

"Thanks, Tsukki!" They turn to face Kei with a brilliant smile. Kei never thought he'd be anybody's personal hairstylist, but he's always had a pathetically soft spot for Yamaguchi, so after several hours' worth of YouTube tutorials and plenty of practice, he had discovered a hidden talent for french braids. And anything that made his best friend feel confident and smile that way was well worth the effort in Kei's opinion.

"I mean it, I think it's great that these guys are getting you out of the house," Yamaguchi continues, hopping up and grabbing their jacket off the arm of the couch. "Though you know you're always invited out with me and the others, right?"

Kei rolls his eyes. "Hinata and Kageyama's unresolved sexual tension makes me uncomfortable. Let me know when they give it up and fuck and maybe I'll consider it."

“Tsukki!”

Kei shrugs and slips his own jacket on, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “Ready?” Yamaguchi nods, holding up the two helmets and they set out together. 

Kei will never admit it to anyone, but there isn’t much he loves more than sitting on a motorcycle behind Yamaguchi Tadashi as they weave through the crowded streets. Kei has never been much of a thrill-seeker, but he can’t help but enjoy that rush of adrenaline he gets when they take a particularly sharp turn or speed through a yellow light. These aren’t things he would ever do on his own, but he quite literally trusts Yamaguchi with his life and that somehow makes the risk-taking feel a little less risky.

It’s only a ten minute drive, but Kei is, as always, pink-cheeked and breathless when he climbs off the motorcycle and hands Yamaguchi his helmet.

“You have your phone and charger, right?”

Kei rolls his eyes and nods. “And a clean pair of socks and underwear. Would you like to check my bag?” Kei swears Yamaguchi can turn from badass biker to mother hen in 0.5 seconds flat. 

“Alright, alright, Tsukki. Just text me tomorrow when you need picked up. I’m going shopping with Yachi but I can swing by whenever you need me. Even tonight, if you need to leave early or whatever.”

Kei wonders (not for the first time) what good thing he ever did in his life to end up with someone like Yamaguchi Tadashi as his best friend. He also wonders (again, not for the first time) if Yamaguchi understands quite how important they are to Kei. He hopes so.

“Thanks, Yama,” he says with a small smile and turns to enter the apartment building. 

“TSUKKI’S HERE!!” he hears Bokuto’s voice shout within seconds of him knocking. The shouting is punctuated by a loud crash before the door is practically ripped off its hinges, making Kei jump back slightly.

When the door opens, Kei momentarily forgets how to breathe. He looks at Bokuto and is suddenly struck by how very gay he is and what a bad idea this might have been. He clearly must be out of his mind to think that going clubbing with the three guys he has the hots for and also works with and then spending the night at their apartment is in any way going to lead to anything less than embarrassment and poor decision making.

Bokuto’s shirt is _tight_. Technically, his work shirts are tight too (Kei supposes it’s a side effect of being built like a brick wall) but they are usually covered with a blazer of some kind and the pale blue v-neck he’s wearing now looks like it’s painted on him. With effort, Kei pulls his eyes up to Bokuto’s face, but that doesn’t help matters any because his usual ridiculous spikes are gone and his hair is framing his face just right and Kei has to tightly grip the strap of his bag in order to keep himself from reaching out to feel for himself if it’s as soft as it looks.

“Oi! Bro! Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to let Tsukki in?” Kuroo’s voice is coming from somewhere behind Bokuto and when they both jump he’s vaguely aware that Bokuto’s been staring at him too. 

Something resembling embarrassment (Kei’s unsure- it’s not an expression he’s ever seen Bokuto wear) flashes over Bokuto’s face and he apologizes, stepping back and allowing Kei entrance. 

“Sorry if I’m too early,” Kei murmurs, toeing his shoes off and entering the apartment. 

“No, this is perfect. ‘Kaashi’s just finishing getting ready.” Bokuto says, leading Kei through the kitchen and into the living room.

Kei is struck first by just how big everything is. The couch is massive, parked in front of a huge coffee table that’s nearly the size of Kei and Yamaguchi’s kitchen table, just shorter. The couch is flanked by two love seats and there’s a third in the corner of the room near a floor lamp and a couple of bookshelves stuffed to the brim. The TV is mounted to the wall (as much for utility as for safety with Kuroo and Bokuto sharing a space, Kei supposes) and there’s another shelf underneath the tv with several game consoles and a couple of thick DVD binders.

But even more than the size or amount of furniture, Kei’s eyes are drawn to the photos on the walls- some framed and hung, some printed on canvas, and many more collaged and hung in poster-sized frames. There are so many, it’s hard to figure out where to look first. Photos of them with what Kei assumes are their families, photos of them with friends (he spots Kenma in several of them, looking just as bored as he does at work), and dozens and dozens of photos of Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi together- posed with their arms around each other, candids of them with their heads bent together, and several selfies with all three of them smashed into the frame leaving no room for anyone else.

The nagging thought that he used to have- that they just invited him along to be polite- comes back full force and Kei struggles to shoo it away.

A low whistle breaks him out of his thoughts. Kei isn’t sure how he had missed Kuroo lounging on one of the loveseats, his long legs clad in ripped up black skinny jeans, topped with a fitted red button-down. His signature bedhead is as wild as ever and Kei feels the heat rush to his cheeks as a wolfish grin spreads across Kuroo’s face.

“Tsukki! I didn’t know you had piercings!” 

“Ah, yeah,” Kei is suddenly very aware of the thin silver ring in his bottom lip and two black studs adorning each of his earlobes. “I went with Yamaguchi when they got their tattoo and just got kinda talked into it. I wasn’t sure if they were okay to wear to work so I just,” he shrugs, a little self-conscious, “don’t.”

“I like them! They look cool!” Bokuto grins at Kei, moving to shove Kuroo’s feet to the floor and flop down on the love seat next to him. Kuroo immediately moves his feet back up to rest in Bokuto’s lap.

“They do suit you,” a quiet voice breaks in. Akaashi joins them in the living room and Kei’s stomach flips again because Akaashi is wearing a fitted purple-and-grey striped sweater and black eyeliner somehow makes his eyelashes look even longer and fuller than they do on a daily basis.

Kei feels like he just might combust before the evening’s over.

“Are you alright, Tsukki?” Bokuto asks, concerned. “You know, if you don’t want to go out, we can definitely hang out here- order food and play games and stuff.”

Kei can’t help but allow a small smile to slip over his face. “No, no, this is your celebration. I’m fine. I just feel,” he gestures vaguely, “a little underdressed, I guess.” Yamaguchi had assured him that the faded blue skinny jeans and loose, olive green v-neck he had chosen were perfect for going out. They had even dug back into Kei’s closet and come out with a slightly cropped black leather jacket that had been a gift from Akiteru several birthdays ago.

Bokuto fixes Kei with his rollercoaster-sunshine smile. “Are you kidding? You look great! We all look great! We’re gonna be the hottest dudes out tonight!” 

“Yeah we are, bro!” Kuroo agrees and the two high five without even making eye contact. 

Kei quirks an eyebrow. "How are they always able to do that?"

Akaashi rolls his eyes. "One singular shared brain cell, I guess. If we get lucky they'll try to do it while they're drunk and slap each other across the face again." 

"That happened one time!" Kuroo squawks indignantly and Kei snorts, finally feeling himself relax. After a couple of drinks he might even stop feeling like this was such a bad idea.

Kei had expected dinner to be loud, especially considering how their lunches always go, but had somehow forgotten to factor alcohol into the equation, which only serves to make Kuroo louder, Bokuto more rambunctious, and Akaashi more giggly. As for Kei, the combination of alcohol, an abundance of grilled meat, and current company makes him flushed and happy.

Kuroo and Bokuto tell stories, clearly for Kei’s benefit, since Akaashi was either present for them all or has heard them dozens of times before. Between car-sledding out on country roads, their fascination with the parkour craze, and drop-kicking contests on Kuroo’s trampoline, Kei finds himself wondering how it’s possible neither of them has ever broken a bone.

"I don't think I've ever seen Tsukki smile so much!" Bokuto shouts as he spears a piece of steak off the grill and shoves it in his mouth. Kuroo shuts his mouth (he had been interrupted while explaining the intricacies of Extreme Croquet) and nods in agreement.

"The less sober I am, the more tolerable you are," Kei snarks, fixing his mouth back into its usual disapproving frown.

Bokuto clutches his heart and pouts, cheeks still stuffed with food, causing Akaashi to dissolve into giggles and Kei wonders briefly if it’s possible to bottle a noise because he’s pretty sure he could get drunk on that sound alone.

“There’s the salty bitch we know and love!” Kuroo cackles, earning himself looks from some of the other patrons of the restaurant. Kei gives him his best side-eye which does nothing but turn Kuroo’s smirk into an all-out shit-eating grin.

“Well, if Bo’s done stuffing his face,” announces Akaashi, earning him an indignant noise from Bokuto, “I’m ready to dance.”

Kei sits at the bar, watching his three companions on the dance floor; he isn’t quite drunk enough to join them yet, but he’s more than happy to observe while he nurses his beer. They are easy to see, despite having gravitated to the middle of the crowded dance floor. 

Bokuto and Kuroo’s movements are big and loud, as though Kei could have expected anything else. They have a natural athleticism and they know how to move their bodies in a way that could be loosely translated as dancing. And even if they aren’t the most graceful or rhythmic dancers out there, it’s clear from their smiles and the way they look at each other and Akaashi that they’re having the time of their lives. And to be perfectly honest, Akaashi is the real star of the show. He dances between his two taller companions, all hips and half-closed eyes and Kei is pretty sure he’s going to implode if he keeps watching him, but he also can’t look away. 

Akaashi snakes his arm around Bokuto’s waist and pulls him closer and Kuroo leans forward from his place behind Akaashi and speaks into his ear. Kei swivels around on his stool because, while his heart flips at the sight of the three of them, he can’t help but feel like a third wheel. Well, a fourth wheel, technically, which shouldn’t be a problem, but it seems like the three of them are a tricycle and a fourth wheel would just be unnecessary.

“Hey, Blondie,” an unfamiliar voice and a hand on his lower back snap Kei out of his thoughts and his body tenses under the uninvited touch. “Buy you a drink?”

Kei turns to the man whose hand is, for some reason, still on his back. His dark brown hair is combed neatly away from his face and his green eyes glint hungrily as he eyes Kei up and down. He’s handsome and built, but Kei doesn’t like the predatory look in his eyes. He frowns and holds up his half-full beer and leans slightly away in the hopes that the guy will get the hint without Kei actually having to speak to him.

“Hmm, stoic. I like that,” he smirks, but the appeal that Kuroo’s smirk has isn’t there. “Are you here with anyone?”

“Yes,” Kei says, eyes flicking to the dance floor almost unconsciously. 

The guy’s smirk widens and his hand presses a little more firmly on Kei’s back. “Yet you’re sitting here all alone? If you were here with me, I wouldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Well it’s a good thing he’s not here with you, then.”

The hand immediately drops from his back and Kei whips his head around. He almost doesn’t recognize Bokuto standing there, a shot glass in each hand. He’s wearing a frown, something Kei’s never seen on his face before, and his golden eyes glint dangerously. The dark-haired guy’s face flashes between scared (sure, he’s built, but Bokuto is basically a tank) and angry that he’s been so clearly rejected. He huffs in annoyance and stomps away.

“Sorry if I overstepped,” Bokuto says, expression shifting immediately from angry to apologetic. He hands Kei one of the shot glasses. “You looked really uncomfortable and that guy just screamed ‘scumbag.’” 

“Thanks,” he downs the shot and chases it with the last half of his beer. The alcohol burns pleasantly and the shot is just what he needs to push the rest of his careful reserve out the window. He’s not wasted, but he feels light and giddy and like maybe Yamaguchi was right and all he really needs is to blow off some steam. “Let’s dance, Bo.”

Bokuto hoots happily, tosses back his own shot, and grabs Kei’s hand, practically dragging him over to where Akaashi and Kuroo are dancing. The two men effortlessly open up a spot for their companions and any sense that Kei doesn’t belong with them is tossed aside. Kei’s senses are overwhelmed, the music pounding in his ears, heat from the others’ bodies pressing in on him. He’s hot and sweaty, but right now, squeezed between Akaashi and Kuroo and the dumb grin on his face mirroring Bokuto’s, he feels like he could stay here all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Hangover cures, more Yama, and then it's back to work!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some wild angst (and Yachi!) appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm having a hard time writing angst/conflict because I just want all of my babies to be happy forever, so I hope Tsukki's emotional bullshit doesn't feel to weird/forced/disjointed or whatever. But I hope you enjoy the fluff and the friendship dynamic between Kei, Yama, and Yachi. It was fun to write, so maybe they will have their own group chat at some point.
> 
> Big thanks to Xev for sticking that Yama/Kenma pairing in my head because they are both sweet little cinnamon rolls and I love them more than anything.
> 
> Please give me love and/or criticism. I live for your comments and any situational requests will definitely be taken into consideration. I've got an ongoing list of chapter ideas and don't have a clear outline for this one yet, so I'm just kinda flying by the seat of my pants! :)

Kei is rudely ripped from his sleep by two ice blocks in the form of Kuroo’s feet worming their way under his blanket and pressing against his calves. He lets out a less-than-dignified shout of surprise and pulls away, successfully tangling his blankets around himself and toppling onto the floor. 

“What in the actual fuck, Kuroo?!” he shouts, attempting to disentangle himself from the blanket and locate his glasses at the same time, though he’s pretty sure he can’t be heard over the sound of that ridiculous hyena cackle. Kei instead settles for shooting Kuroo a murderous glare which, in all honesty, would probably be more effective if he wasn’t currently sitting on the floor in a pile of blankets, blonde curls sticking out in all directions, wearing his T-Rex pajama pants.

Kuroo calms down long enough to get out a, "Sorry, Tsukki," despite not sounding sorry at all.

Gathering the scraps of his pride, Kei sighs and crawls back up onto the couch. “What the fuck is wrong with your feet?” he asks, reluctantly lifting the blanket and allowing Kuroo’s freezing feet entry. It’s too early and he’s suffering from a slight hangover as well as an extreme lack of caffeine, so his defenses aren’t as up to par as they typically are when he’s alone with Kuroo. 

Kuroo shrugs, scooting closer and slipping his feet under the blanket. “Poor circulation.”

Kei rolls his eyes, trying his best to ignore the way Kuroo’s toes are wiggling from where they’re tucked under his thigh. “You should see a doctor about that. They’re goddamn freezing.”

“Why, when they’re so perfect for waking you up?” Kuroo smirks, earning himself half-hearted glare from Kei. “Alright, how about a peace offering? Coffee? Bo got it ready before he went out for his run.” 

“Does it really count as a peace offering if you aren’t the one making it?”

“Good point,” Kuroo chuckles, standing and stretching. Kei is suddenly very interested in the pattern on the blanket he’s covered with and not at all with the way Kuroo’s sweat pants hang off his hips or the small strip of stomach that is currently exposed. “How about if I bring it to you, then? Will that work?”

Kei hums noncommittally and Kuroo lets out another low chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“No cream or sugar,” Kei calls at his retreating form.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else, Tsukki.” 

Kei allows a small smile to fall over his lips as he listens to the sounds of Kuroo pouring their coffee. When he returns, holding out a steaming mug to Kei, the smile is still there. So is Akaashi who has wandered out to the living room, eyes soft and heavy with sleep; without a word, he’s settled in next to Kei, pulling some of the blanket over his legs and resting his head on Kei’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling?”

Kei gets a groan in response and laughs quietly. He takes the mug from Kuroo and sips the bitter drink gratefully, thanking Kuroo with a slight nod of his head. Kuroo's feet are warm, but Kei allows him to slip them under his blanket anyway. 

By the time Bokuto returns from his run and gleefully drapes his body over the three of them (with only mild complaints from Akaashi and Kei), Kei’s headache is mostly gone and has been replaced by a sense of contentment and a slight ache in his chest.

“What about this one?” Yachi holds up a pale pink tube of lip gloss that, to Kei’s eye, looks the same as the last three she’s shown them. Something about it must be different though because, instead of wrinkling their nose and shaking their head, Yamaguchi takes it from Yachi’s hand and inspects it carefully.

“Perfect!” they declare with a bright smile, dropping the tube in the basket Kei is carrying. Kei has long ago added “shopping for makeup” to the long list titled "Things Only Yamaguchi Could Convince Me To Do." Also on that list are activities such as the aforementioned french braiding, group Halloween costumes, and taking sewing classes. It’s downright domestic when Kei stops to think about it- no wonder everyone assumes they’re a couple.

“So what’s your deal with these guys? You like them, right?” Yachi suddenly asks after they’ve paid and are walking back towards Kei and Yamaguchi’s apartment. This comment earns her one hell of a side-eye from Kei and Yamaguchi tries and fails to hold in a snort of laughter.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh come on, I thought it was obvious. Right, Yama?”

Yamaguchi fiddles with the ends of their hair and gives a small shrug. “I mean, she’s not wrong, Tsukki. The way you talk about them is...well, I haven’t seen you like that in a long time.” 

“Traitor.”

Yachi rolls her eyes and bumps Kei’s arm with her shoulder. “So…?” Clearly she’s not going to let this drop. For all her big-eyed innocence, she really is a gossip hound, Kei thinks bitterly.

“They’re my friends,” he settles for this non-explanation because it is technically the truth, even if that fact hurts a little more than he cares to admit.

“I’m your friend and I’m pretty sure your eyes don’t go all soft like that when you talk about me,” Yachi says bluntly. 

This statement gives Kei pause as he runs over everything he’s said about Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi to his friends, wondering just how obvious he’s been. It doesn’t surprise him that Yamaguchi would be able to easily pick up on his feelings- they probably knew before Kei even admitted it to himself- but if he’s been this transparent with Yachi, how easy is he for the others to read? The idea makes him a little sick to his stomach.

“Though if you like all three of them, that could make things complicated,” she continues, shifting her bag on her shoulder. She purses her lips slightly as though she's seriously trying to think of a solution to this "complication."

“Who said I liked any of them that way?” Kei counters, ignoring Yamaguchi’s smirk and Yachi’s quirked eyebrow, focusing instead on getting the door unlocked and figuring out how to escape this conversation.

“Please,” Yachi waves a hand dismissively. “Did you forget I live with Sho and Tobio? If anyone knows what pining looks like, it’s me.” 

“Tch.” Kei clicks his tongue, offended at being put in the same category of those two nitwits. “So still no new developments on that front?” Kei doesn’t really care about their romance (or lack thereof) but he’s desperate to change the subject.

“No. They’re both idiots and I’ve tried everything short of a full-on intervention or locking them in the bathroom together. And don’t think I haven’t thought of it,” she mutters darkly before turning back to Kei. “And don’t you think you’re changing the subject on us.” Sometimes Yachi is scarily perceptive.

Kei rolls his eyes, flopping down on the couch. Theirs is much smaller than the one at Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi’s place, but he’s pretty sure this morning’s cuddle-pile, for lack of a better term, has ruined him because the couch feels too big and lonely. 

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi’s perched on the arm of the couch, their brown eyes fixed on him intensely and Kei knows he’s not getting out of this. Yamaguchi barely ever has to say anything to get Kei to spill his guts; it’s been this way since they were kids and today is no different.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he mutters. He’s known it all along, but saying it aloud brings the dull ache he’s been feeling in his chest all morning to the forefront.

“Why not?” Yachi isn’t looking at him, is instead studying her chipping nail polish, which makes it easier for Kei to answer.

“There’s no…” Kei gestures vaguely, “room for me. Not in that way.” 

“How do you know that?” Yamaguchi asks quietly.

Kei bites his lip and considers this question. The answer is obvious to him- it’s in the way the three of them looked last night as Akaashi danced in between Bokuto and Kuroo, the way they looked this morning when Kei got out of the shower and joined them in the kitchen. Bokuto had been cooking eggs and bacon for them all, Kuroo gathering the butter, milk, and orange juice from the refrigerator, and Akaashi taking out plates and silverware from the cabinet. They moved around each other easily, almost synchronized, as though they had done it a million times before. He thought back on the fleeting touches between the three of them on their walks between the ramen shop and the office, the way Bokuto and Kuroo always stare at the elevator door for a second after Akaashi gets off on his floor.

He’s never directly asked the three of them about their relationship, but at this point he's pretty sure he doesn't need to.

His chest tightens and he lets out a laugh that comes out a little harsher than he expects. “There just isn’t,” he says.

**Kei [11:37 am]**  
_Yamaguchi’s got the day off and wants to meet us for lunch if that’s ok with you guys._

**Brokuto [11:37 am]**  
_TSUKKIIIIIII! _

**Brokuto [11:37 am]**  
_OF COURSE IT’S AWESOME I CAN’T WAIT TO MEET HIM!_

**SaintKeiji [11:37 am]**  
_*them, Bo_

**Brokuto [11:37 am]**  
_SHIT SRRY, I CAN’T WAIT TO MEET THEM!!_

**Kei [11:37 am]**  
_Is your caps lock stuck or something??_

**Kei [11:38 am]**  
_Also, thanks, Akaashi. _

**SaintKeiji [11:38 am]**  
_np_

**Brokuto [11:38 am]**  
_No, srry, I’m just happy ur still alive._

**CatDaddyKuroo [11:38 am]**  
_Yeah, you’ve been kinda MIA all weekend._

**Brokuto [11:38 am]**  
_Ur not mad at us r u Tsukki??_

**SaintKeiji [11:38 am]**  
_I told them you were probably just busy._

**SaintKeiji [11:38 am]**  
_Or that you muted the chat bc these assholes are annoying._

**CatDaddyKuroo [11:39 am]**  
_:(_

**Brokuto [11:39 am]**  
_:( :( :(_

**Kei [11:39 am]**  
_Oh. Yeah._

**Kei [11:39 am]**  
_Sorry. Things got a little hectic._

**Kei [11:39 am]**  
_But no, I’m not mad. _

**CatDaddyKuroo [11:40 am]**  
_So everything’s ok?_

**Kei [11:40 am]**  
_Mm. All good. See you guys soon._

In all reality, Kei had been ignoring the group’s texts, preferring to spend the weekend wallowing and figuring out how to disentangle himself from the group without truly upsetting them. His first idea had been begging off their daily lunches, but Yamaguchi shot that one down completely. In a very stern and un-Yama-like tone, they had sat Kei down and asked him if this was really worth throwing away three good friendships. Kei had agreed that maybe, just maybe, he had been overreacting a little bit, though he had still made Yamaguchi promise that they'd attend lunch with them the following day.

Now, as Kei sits squeezed between Yamaguchi and Bokuto (he and Kuroo had played several rounds of rock-paper-scissors to decide which one would get to sit next to Kei; after six ties, Akaashi finally rolled his eyes and flipped a coin for them) he is grateful for Yamaguchi yelling at him (as much as Yama yells, anyway) the previous evening. 

He’s really, really, not willing to give this up.

Lunch is loud, per usual, and Kei is content to re-listen to stories that he knows well from both Yamaguchi (because he was there) and Kuroo (because he’s heard them dozens of times). Akaashi compliments Yamaguchi’s braid- today it’s an upside-down french braid pulled into a top knot and Kei is quietly proud of how it came out- and when they tell the group that Kei did it for them, Bokuto looks at him with an expression close to awe and Kei feels like his heart’s going to beat out of his chest.

“What other hidden talents do you have, Tsukki?” Kuroo asks with that goddamn smirk on his face. Kei has to put forth all his effort into not choking on his lemonade.

Yamaguchi opens his mouth to answer and Kei quickly clamps a hand over it. “Not a word. I am too sober for this conversation to happen.”

“Oho?” Kuroo leans forward, tucking his hands under his chin.

“Ohoho?” Bokuto echoes, bumping his shoulder against Kei’s.

“Is it time to go back to work yet?”

Akaashi shoots Kei a small smile and suddenly Kei is in too good of a mood to decline when Yamaguchi asks to accompany them back to the office and see Kei’s workplace before they have to run some errands. On the walk back, Kuroo and Bokuto teach Yamaguchi the overly complicated handshake and, much to their delight, Yama is able to execute it perfectly when the time comes to say goodbye to them. 

“I can see why you like them so much, Tsukki. But...did it feel weird today? I was comfortable, but you know them better...” Yamaguchi asks as they walk down the stairs towards the IT department. 

Kei chews the inside of his cheek for a moment before answering. “Not really? But you were a good buffer, so it’s hard to say. Kuroo did seem a little upset that I was quiet in the group chat all weekend.”

Yamaguchi hums, then turns to Kei with a smile. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You just have to get out of your own way.”

Before Kei can ask them what they mean by that, they arrive at his desk. “Here it is,” Kei says, gesturing around the room unenthusiastically. “IT in all its glory.” Despite the dullness of the room, Yamaguchi’s smile is wide as their eyes roam over the office. It only brightens when they settle on Kenma peering over his computer monitor. His blonde locks are pushed back from his face with a red headband and he’s looking at Yamaguchi with something resembling interest. Or at least, that’s what Kei thinks it is...with Kenma, it’s hard to really tell.

“Oh, Yamaguchi, this is my supervisor, Kenma. Kenma, this is Yamaguchi. They came to lunch with us today.”

“Ah. I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Yamaguchi’s smile slips for a second. “Sorry for what?”

“For having to suffer through lunch with Kuroo,” Kenma deadpans. “He’s tedious at the best of times. I'm sure he did something that needs an apology.”

Yamaguchi bursts into laughter and Kenma slouches back down in his chair, hiding behind his monitor, though not before Kei sees his lips quirk up into a slip of a smile and a faint hint of pink in his cheeks which is, quite honestly, the most expression he’s ever seen on the other man’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Maybe some memes! Maybe some office hijinks! Maybe I don't have a clue what I'm going to write! Your guess is as good as mine!! D:
> 
> Also: How do we feel about smut/gradually moving to an M rating? I have a few ideas, but obviously we've got a ways to go before any of that would happen. Just curious as to everyone's thoughts. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yama gives Tsukki a stern talking-to and Bokuto learns the finer points of bribery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay- work has been kicking my ass recently and this chapter was just fighting me in general but hopefully you all like what I finally got out for you!
> 
> Aaaand, starting Dec. 1, I'm going to be doing my own challenge- a 25 days of HQ Christmas. I'll be (in theory) posting a one-shot every day from Dec 1-25 based off a one- or two-word prompt so keep an eye out for that! Hopefully we'll have a healthy mix of fluff and smut during that time! I would love to hear any ship requests you may have for that project. :)
> 
> Anyway, as always, love, comments, kudos, criticism are GREATLY appreciated. You all give me life and I adore reading what you have to say!

Within the course of several weeks, the walls he has spent the last 23 years constructing (because, honestly, if anyone’s been building walls since infancy, it’s Tsukishima Kei) are cracking faster and faster. In those 23 years, Yamaguchi Tadashi has been the only one to successfully and fully break through those walls, but that honor--or burden, depending on how you look at it--is quickly becoming a thing of the past. With every day that passes, with every stupid and endearing quirk he discovers, with every Saturday morning spent on the floor eating breakfast around that massive coffee table (which, it turns out, _is_ their “kitchen” table), it’s getting harder to maintain those walls around Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi. 

Kei isn’t completely sure when the shift happens--maybe after that first weekend spent with Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi, maybe after the resulting conversation with his best friend, maybe sometime after that. Now that it’s happened, though, he’s finding it harder and harder to ignore. Against his better judgement, he finds himself relaxing into the comfort of their companionship, surrendering to the idea that, between the four of them, the lines between friendship and intimacy are fuzzy and blurred. For Kei, a man who has always shied away from casual touch (once again, Yamaguchi being the exception), this is a terrifying and exhilarating development. 

He’s painfully aware that he’s in way over his head. Somewhere along the line, the word “crush” has become insignificant in relation to his feelings towards Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kuroo. And it’s not like Kei has never had a crush; despite his aloof and disinterested facade, he isn’t immune to the charms of cute TAs or baristas slipping him a napkin with their number on it. But if those crushes put butterflies in his stomach, it’s nothing compared to the stampede that occurs in his chest when he’s near these three.

“Tsukki?” 

Kei’s sprawled out on the couch, head resting in Yamaguchi’s lap as they card their fingers lightly through his hair, the movement comforting and familiar enough to lull him into a state of half-sleep. He’s sort of watching the episode of _Forensic Files_ that’s playing, but mostly waiting for the next buzz of his phone signaling another text in the group chat.

“Yeah?” he turns his head and looks up at Yamaguchi. His best friend’s eyes are still trained on the television, though it’s clear he’s not really watching the show either. Not that it matters- they’ve both seen every episode several times.

“You’re going to the apartment this weekend?”

Kei doesn’t need to ask Yamaguchi which apartment he’s talking about. And though it’s phrased like a question, it isn’t one- not really. Of course he’s going to Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi’s apartment this weekend. It’s practically routine at this point- an unspoken agreement between the four of them.

“Mmm,” he hums an affirmation and turns back to the TV where the end credits are rolling. They missed the revelation of the murderer, but Kei remembers that it was the husband. It usually is, after all.

“Can I ask you a question?” Yamaguchi’s hands still and Kei frowns at the loss of movement. 

“You just did.” Yamaguchi flicks his ear in response to this. “Okay, okay! Ask away.”

“When are you going to tell them how you feel?”

The question sends an unpleasant jolt through Kei and he sits up, pulling away from his friend. “Yama, we’ve talked about this,” he says in a low voice.

“Technically we’ve talked about it once. While Yachi was here. Over a month ago. So I don’t really think that counts.” Yamaguchi turns and pulls their knees up to their chest, nudging Kei’s hip with their toes when he doesn’t respond right away.

“Aren’t you the one that told me not to throw away my friendship with them?” 

“Yeah, because you were planning on trying to ghost them!”

“Well don’t you think that confessing that I’m in- that I’ve got feelings for all three of them is a damn good way to fuck up our friendship?” He scrubs a hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew. He hates how unsteady his voice sounds to his own ears and can only imagine how pathetic Yamaguchi must think he is.

“I think you’re having a hard time seeing what’s right in front of you, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, reaching over to adjust Kei’s glasses. They’re wearing a small smile, an affectionate one, not one full of pity, and Kei is once again left wondering what it is they possibly get out of a friendship with someone as emotionally stunted as himself.

“I think you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” he says, going to his usual strategy of deflecting in an attempt to shut down the conversation. Unfortunately, Yamaguchi is well-practiced on Kei’s tactics for shutting people out and isn’t easily deterred.

“I think,” they say, considering their words carefully, “maybe you’re too close to the situation to see the whole of it. Or maybe you’re too...distracted...by what’s going on inside of you, you can’t see what’s so clear to everyone else.” 

“‘Everyone else’ being you?” Yamaguchi shrugs and Kei rolls his eyes. “I know you want me to be happy or whatever, but trying to give me false hope is-”

“Look, Tsukki,” they interrupt, growing impatient with Kei’s dismissiveness. “All I’m saying is that I’ve seen the way they look at you- all of them- and it’s definitely a more-than-friends kinda look.” They hold a hand up, shutting down Kei’s protests before they can even form on his lips. “I promise you, I am not trying to get your hopes up. I’m just telling you what I see. You’re happy with them- happier than I’ve ever seen you. And I don’t know them anywhere near as well as I know you, but I’m also not an idiot. It’s obvious how much you all care about each other.”

Yamaguchi speaks with such sincerity, it’s hard to not want to believe them at least a little bit. But Yamaguchi has always been a glass-half-full sort of person and in Kei’s experience, that sort of thinking often leads to disappointment, so he just boxes that thought up and pushes it to the side for now.

“You know,” he says in an attempt to shift the topic at hand, “you’re awfully full of relationship advice for someone who still hasn’t even asked Kenma for his phone number.” 

As expected, the mere mention of Kenma’s name has Yamaguchi pink-cheeked with a slightly dazed smile plastered on their face. Kei wonders vaguely if that’s what he looks like when he talks about Akaashi, Bokuto, or Kuroo and groans inwardly at the thought.

“I’m just waiting for a good time to ask!” Yamaguchi protests.

“You two talk every time you ‘visit me’ in the office,” Kei pointedly uses air quotes and Yamaguchi flushes, “and you haven’t thought of a good time to ask for his number?”

Yamaguchi buries their face in their hands and groans. “You’re right, I’m such a hypocrite. He’s just...he makes me nervous. He’s so hard to read!”

“True. But he makes actual facial expressions when you’re around. And he says more than two- or three-word sentences. He’s even laughed which I think is like, a sign of the apocalypse or something.”

“Okay, okay, okay. How about this?” Yamaguchi’s still blushing, but there’s a glint in their eyes that Kei’s not entirely sure he likes. “If I follow my own advice, you’ll do the same.” 

Kei rolls his eyes. It’s pretty clear that Yamaguchi isn’t going to let this go anytime soon and his only hope is that they’ll be so distracted with Kenma (because he knows _that’s_ going to happen sooner or later) that they’ll forget about his whole...situation.

“I’ll think about it,” he decides. It’s vague enough that Yamaguchi can’t hold him to anything as drastic as confessing and also not quite a lie, since this is pretty much all he thinks about anyway.

“I guess that’s about what I should have expected.” Despite their obvious disappointment that Kei isn’t going to run out and immediately confess to Akaashi, Bokuto, and Kuroo, their smile is still bright and hopeful. Kei decides to let them think they’ve won this battle.

“What is all of this?” Kei eyes his three lunch companions suspiciously. They are, for some reason, on the roof today, leaning against a low wall, each holding a bento box. 

As Kei approaches, he notices the fourth bento--his, presumably--is carefully wrapped in a pale blue cloth printed with dinosaurs. Kei’s rational side insists that they probably had an extra furoshiki laying around and it just happens to be his favorite color printed with his favorite animal. However, even the faint idea that they may have specifically purchased this one with him in mind fills him with a bubble of happiness that makes it difficult to keep his face in its usual neutral expression as he takes a seat on the ground next to Bokuto.

“It’s a picnic, of course!” Bokuto exclaims, gesturing toward the bento that Kei is already in the process of opening.

“Ah, I think you mean ‘bribe,’” Kuroo says around a mouthful of rice. His words are muffled, but Kei is familiar enough with Kuroo’s running commentary when doing anything (including eating) that he’s able to interpret pretty easily.

“Bribe?” He pauses with a piece of omelette halfway to his mouth. His eyes flick from Bokuto, who is wearing a comical expression somewhere between betrayal (aimed at Kuroo) and innocence (aimed at Kei), down to Akaashi. 

Akaashi chews a bite of pepper thoughtfully, swallows, and looks back at Kei, that little half-smile playing at his lips. "It's a bribe." he confirms.

"'Kaashi!" Bokuto wails, face fully in betrayed-mode. Akaashi shrugs.

It’s then that Kei notices that the bento is filled with some of his favorite things to eat, things his mom used to put in his bentos in elementary school; the memory stings and he brushes it aside. In addition to the cheese omelette, there are teriyaki meatballs with soba noodles, a small salad of pickled vegetables, and onigiri that Kei suspects (and hopes) has a center of salted salmon. Kei can’t even remember mentioning all these dishes to Bokuto, but realizes that he must have at some point and the other man had filed that information away.

“Bokuto,” Kei says, fixing the other man with a stare he hopes comes across as disinterested. “I don’t think you completely understand what a bribe is.” He pops the piece of omelette in his mouth and chews deliberately, suppressing the groan that threatens to escape his lips at the flavor. For someone Kei wouldn’t think to trust around a candle, let alone a fully-stocked kitchen, Bokuto is a damn good cook. 

“What do you mean?”

Kuroo cackles and even Akaashi lets out a little huff of laughter before explaining. “You’re supposed to get him to agree to the thing first. The bribe is leverage, dumbass.” 

Bokuto blinks several times and looks between the three of them. “Shit!” he finally exclaims. “I knew I was forgetting something!” he wails, putting his head in his hands.

“God, Bo, you’re just too pure for this world,” Kuroo snorts, slinging an arm around Bokuto and pulling him into a side-hug. Bokuto nuzzles his head into Kuroo’s shoulder and makes a contented noise that causes a flutter in Kei’s stomach.

“Maybe this is why you can’t crack that top three regional sales spot.” Akaashi deadpans, lifting an eyebrow at the pair of them as he continues to nibble delicately at his onigiri.

“‘Kaashi!” Bokuto whines.

“Alright, alright,” Kei interrupts. “As much fun as it would be to keep making fun of you, how about you just tell me what you were trying to bribe me to do and I’ll decide if this,” he gestures vaguely, “was enough of an incentive to get me to do it anyway.” 

It always amazes Kei how quickly Bokuto can shift from melodramatic wailing to ray of sunshine and today is no exception. He sits up and turns to Kei, sincere and hopeful smile on his face. “Okay, so I know karaoke isn’t really your _thing_.”

“Um,” Kei is already wary of where this is going.

“Which is like, ridiculous because Yamaguchi miiiight have mentioned that you’re actually an amazing singer? So actually it’s probably your duty to frequent karaoke bars?”

“Bokuto…” 

“Right! Anyway. So _Fucking Oikawa_ landed yet another huge sale. And of course it has to be a huge deal, so he invites a ton of the sales team to Shino’s for drinks and karaoke tonight. And usually I just wouldn’t go, but for some reason Takeda-sensei has decided that this is a wonderful opportunity for team-building so now the ENTIRE sales team is going.” He huffs out a breath.

“Alright. And what does this have to do with me?” Kei asks, although he’s already sure he knows.

“Well, I kind of really need someone with me. You know, to keep me from committing murder as a result of spending literally any outside-of-work time with Oikawa.”

Kei lifts an eyebrow pointedly at Akaashi and Kuroo. “You two can’t go with him?” Although he’s quietly pleased at the prospect of some one-on-one time with Bokuto, Kei can’t help but think that either of the other two would be better company at a karaoke bar of all places.

“I’ve got end-of-month and end-of-quarter reports to check over tonight. Yaku and I are going to be here all fucking night,” Kuroo runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. “God, I can’t wait until that new hire starts,” he mutters.

“It’s okay, bro,” Bokuto pats his shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “At least you’re getting dinner on the company dime tonight.”

“True,” he says, lips curling up in a smile. “If they can’t be bothered to properly staff us all quarter, the least we can do is feast like kings.”

“And I have to babysit tonight. My sister’s got a date and there’s no telling what time she’ll get home, so I’ll be staying at her place,” Akaashi says. Kei’s eyebrows shoot up at this, images of Akaashi cuddling a little baby in his arms suddenly playing before his eyes. He takes note of the hardness in Akaashi’s blue-grey eyes, making him curious about the relationship between him and his sister.

“Uggggh,” Bokuto groans. “I’m so jealous. I miss Kana and Kaya so much!” he turns to Kei with a huge grin. “They’re the cutest twins you’ve ever seen. They look just like ‘Kaashi, just...six. And girls.”

Akaashi smiles affectionately. “They miss you guys, too.”

“Don’t forget to take the dinner I put in the ‘fridge before you go!” Bokuto says suddenly. “It’s their favorite and I know Keiko is even more useless in the kitchen than you are.” Akaashi glares at Bokuto in response, but the expression doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Kei can see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Soooooo? Whaddaya say, Tsukki?” Bokuto snakes an arm around Kei’s waist and pulls him closer. “Be my date tonight?” He grins up at Kei as though he already knows what the answer to that will be. And he’s not wrong.

“Fuck, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Kei grumbles, cheeks burning.

Bokuto hoots triumphantly, golden eyes shining. “Yes! Tsukki, you’re a lifesaver!”

“Yeah, Oikawa’s life, maybe,” Kuroo snorts.

“I’m not singing.”

“Right, sure, of course,” Bokuto says, shoveling another bite of noodles in his mouth, his arm still wrapped around Kei.

Kei sighs, resigned. He’s sure he’s going to regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: KARAOKE! And maybe someone asks someone else on a date! And maybe our sweet idiots make plans to go to a festival! 
> 
> Also, I hope the time jump was clear here...I'm not keeping super track of timing of everything, but the last few chapters have taken place in early spring and we're currently approaching summer. Hopefully it wasn't confusing at all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kei and Bokuto k i l l i t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I swear I wasn't planning on making karaoke its own literal chapter but then I got real excited about it and it got a little out of hand so...here you go.
> 
> The next chapter will have some of the things I promised for this one and some things that I wanted to write for this one before it took on a life of its own.
> 
> Also, I swear I really don't hate Oikawa. I really actually love him quite a lot. It just worked out so well for him to be a total ass in this fic. I'll make it up to you guys during 25 Days of HQ Christmas (speaking of which, I'm still taking ship requests for this!)
> 
> I took some liberties with the musical selections. I am clearly a very American child of the 90's so cut me some slack. ^_^
> 
> I am feeling particularly inspired from all the lovely comments you've been leaving, so please continue to do this! I'd like to get at least one more chapter out before my kiddo's birthday, the holidays, and HQ Christmas force this fic into a short hiatus.

Though Kei knows Bokuto was joking when he called asked him to be his “date,” as he is introduced to many members of the sales team he can’t help but enjoy the daydream that maybe this could be a date. Bokuto’s buying him drink after drink and making sure he meets everyone present. Having worked at SynerTech for a little over 6 months now, Kei knows many of the names. However, because several members of the sales team travel often, he’s used to working on their computers remotely if he needs to. 

After meeting most everyone, Kei begins to wonder how Takeda gets through the work week without losing his mind. Between Nishanoya, Tanaka, Komi, and the self-dubbed “dream team” of Makki and Mattsun, (not to mention Bokuto himself) Kei is starting to feel like he’s surrounded by increasingly-drunk toddlers. Or several drunk Hinatas. The thought makes him shudder. 

Regardless, Takeda remains calm and pleasant as ever--though the scruffy-looking blonde man accompanying him has a visible vein pulsing in his forehead. 

Kei is relaxed, pleasantly buzzed, warmed by both the alcohol and Bokuto’s ever-present hand on his arm or elbow. Makki and Mattsun are just finishing up their rendition of “Bye Bye Bye” (complete with synchronized dance moves. Bokuto’s breath tickles Kei’s ear as he leans in to mutter, “They do this song every time, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” he raises an eyebrow, lips turning up into a slight smile, as the two men strike their final pose and the crowd around the small stage bursts into applause. 

“Ah, fuck,” Bokuto huffs. Kei can feel his mood shift suddenly as the doors open and two men walk in. “He’s just gotta make an entrance. Guess we should get this over with so we can get back to getting drunk.” Bokuto gives Kei’s wrist a small tug, pulling him over to the two men, one of which he presumes is Fucking Oikawa.

Within minutes of meeting Oikawa, Kei understands every single one of Bokuto’s complaints about the other man. He’s incredibly handsome and well-dressed, but his charm has an undertone of arrogance and the condescending tone he takes when asking Bokuto how his sales are going (and then glancing at his watch as soon as Bokuto begins speaking) has Kei feeling particularly violent. He wonders if he’s really the right person to keep Bokuto from throttling the man when the way he looks down his nose at Bokuto has his own fingers twitching. He settles for gripping his drink tight with one hand and clenching his other in a fist against his leg and communicating his dislike for the other man with a murderous glare. It doesn't take long for him to notice.

"Ooh, Iwa-chan, I don't think Bo's new beau likes me very much," Oikawa stage-whispers to the man next to him- Kei isn't sure if he's Oikawa's boyfriend or bodyguard. 

Either way, he rolls his eyes at the man next to him. "Can't blame him there, Shittykawa." 

Oikawa dramatically places his hand over his heart. "So mean, Iwa-chan!"

"I'm just not a fan of misplaced confidence," Kei cuts in drily.

“I’m sorry?”

Kei snorts. “It’s really not me you should be apologizing to, but I guess it’s refreshing to see you know how to say the words.”

Bokuto chokes on his drink in an attempt to smother his laughter and even Oikawa’s boyfriend-slash-bodyguard’s lips twitch in what Kei believes to be amusement as he gives Kei an appraising look.

Oikawa huffs and narrows his eyes at Kei. “I think my confidence is perfectly placed, thank you very much. Who’s sale do you think we’re here celebrating anyway?”

Kei smiles blandly. “Yes, well, it’s one thing to land the sale. It’s another beast entirely to keep the customer happy and I can assure you that Bokuto has the highest customer-satisfaction ratings in the entire sales department for at least the last two quarters. Probably more.” At this, Bokuto turns and looks at him, eyes wide and shining. 

“You couldn’t possibly know that,” Oikawa sniffs, but Kei can see some uncertainty in his eyes as they flick back and forth between him and Bokuto.

“Oh, you didn’t know that IT runs those reports and sees literally every piece of data that goes through the system? That includes customer polls and emails between account holders and management.” Kei downs the last of his drink as Oikawa blinks rapidly.

Oikawa finally purses his lips prissily and turns to his companion. “Come on, Iwa-chan. I need a drink,” he snits, pushing past Bokuto and Kei towards the bar.

“Well, he’s going to be insufferable for the rest of the night, so thanks for that,” he huffs, staring after Oikawa for a moment before turning back to Kei. “But it’s always entertaining to see Tooru get put in his place so, genuine thanks for that. I’m Iwaizumi Hajime,” he lands a light punch on Kei’s shoulder and gives him a genuine smile. “If you ever want to knock Shittykawa over there down a few more pegs, call me first so I can witness it. Good to see you again, Bo,” he calls over his shoulder with a wave as he moves past them after Oikawa.

“What a piece of-” Kei is cut off by a hand squeezing his tightly. Bokuto is staring up at him, eyes soft and smile bright and Kei’s heart jumps into his throat but he can’t get his hand to do anything but rest where it’s clasped in Bokuto’s.

“Thanks, Tsukki,” Bokuto says. “That was awesome.”

Kei shrugs, cheeks burning. “Guys like him piss me off,” he manages, staring at his empty glass, wishing he hadn’t finished it all off and had something left to distract himself with. 

He isn’t sure when it happens- maybe after his fourth or fifth drink, maybe after Oikawa’s over-the-top version of “Total Eclipse of the Heart” (which Iwaizumi hilariously spends the entirety of downing shots and hiding behind his hands because Oikawa just will not break eye contact), or maybe it’s after Kei realizes that not once has Bokuto asked him to sing with him even though he keeps looking at the stage longingly- but Kei finds himself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Bokuto, scrolling through the song list.

Kei’s eyes land on a song he knows well. Maybe too well to be considered not embarrassing, and maybe if he hadn’t had so much to drink he would have passed by it. But he’s feeling warm and fuzzy and the heat of Bokuto pressed close to him scrolling through the song list is clearly getting to him. So he points it out to Bokuto. “Do you know this one?”

Bokuto’s eyes go huge for a moment before he grins widely and grips Kei’s wrist. “Are you kidding? Of course I do!”

“And you can pull off the first part?” 

“Tsukki, we’re gonna put on a show! I promise what I lack in singing ability, I make up for in sick dance moves and raw enthusiasm!” Bokuto places his hand over his heart and looks at Kei so earnestly, he can’t help but agree.

The alcohol has done its work and Kei feels surprisingly loose and relaxed as he steps up to the stage with Bokuto. His general rule is to avoid the spotlight at all times, but Bokuto is practically vibrating next to him with excitement and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t ready to show up Oikawa just a little. 

_Fuck it,_ he thinks, eyes landing on Bokuto who is bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. _Let’s put on a show_.

The music starts and Kei’s lips curl into a smile as he takes a step towards Bokuto and trails a finger down his arm. His eyebrows nearly shoot off the top of his head when Kei speaks into the microphone, his voice a little high and breathy.

“Tell me about it, _stud_.”

Cheers erupt from some of the guys hanging around the stage. Kei’s pretty sure Tanaka wolf-whistles, but all he can focus on is how wide Bokuto’s eyes are, how his jaw has gone a little bit slack, and how his free hand has, once again, clasped Kei’s. The music picks up and Bokuto’s grin comes back full-force; he takes a step back from Kei and starts to sing.

_I got chills_  
_They’re multiplying_  
_And I’m losing control_  
_‘Cause the power you’re supplying_  
_It’s electrifying!_

To Kei’s delight (and everybody else’s amusement), Bokuto seems to have spent some time practicing John Travolta’s hip movements; he’s even rolled the sleeves of his short-sleeved black tee shirt a little higher to better emulate the greaser look from the movie. His voice is a little off-key, but far from unpleasant to listen to and Kei is so far gone, he can’t find it in himself to care even a little. And Bokuto certainly wasn’t lying when he said he’d make up for it in enthusiasm. He ends his verse down on his knees, his free hand clasping Kei’s elbow. 

Kei extricates himself from Bokuto’s grip and leans forward slightly, pressing a finger gently to his chest and singing in a clear, confident voice.

_You better shape up_  
_‘Cause I need a man_  
_And my heart is set on you_  
_You better shape up_  
_You better understand_  
_To my heart I must be true_

By the time they reach the chorus, Bokuto’s arm is wrapped around Kei’s waist and they’re facing each other, shimmying back and forth enough to put both John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John to shame. Kei is vaguely aware of Makki and Mattsun screeching the “Ooh-ooh-ooh” along with them, but for the entirety of the song, his eyes are on Bokuto. Bokuto’s arm around his waist, Bokuto’s hips gyrating like it’s their job, Bokuto’s lips, curled up into a huge smile when it’s not his turn to sing.

Kei’s brain is wandering into dangerous territory and it’s a good thing the song ends when it does. They’re both breathless, flushed, and laughing as they exit the stage to the cheers and whistles of their co-workers. Out of the corner of his eye, Kei sees Oikawa pouting and whispering furiously to Iwaizumi, the latter shaking his head and looking anywhere but at the song list Oikawa keeps shoving towards him.

Kei chuckles leans into Bokuto as they both rest against the bar. “Think ‘Iwa-chan’ will get roped into a duet?”

Bokuto huffs out a laugh and grins up at Tsukki. “No way, dude,” he turns to take the two glasses of water he ordered and hand one to Kei who gulps it down gratefully. “Iwaizumi will never get up there and it’s just killing him,” he bumps his hip against Kei’s. “We totally showed him up. Thank you.”

Kei hums an agreement, waving off the thanks. “It was fun, actually.”

Bokuto rests his head on Kei’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming tonight, Tsukki. And for singing. Yamaguchi wasn’t kidding when they said you have an incredible voice.”

Kei flushes. Bokuto’s breath is hot against his throat and his weight against Kei just feels so right and Kei knows he should pull away because his brain is once again wandering into dangerous territory, but he just feels too comfortable right now to do anything about it. 

"It was nothing," he murmurs, leaning his head to the side and resting his cheek against Bokuto's hair.

And just as Bokuto opens his mouth to object to Kei's statement, the opening notes to “My Heart Will Go On” start and Oikawa is at the karaoke mic again. Kei looks at Bokuto, whose eyes are as wide and scared as his own. “Think you’ve put in enough of an appearance tonight?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Bokuto says in answer, whipping out his cell phone to call a taxi with one hand while he drags Kei out of the bar with the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: See last chapter's end notes because I'm terrible at keeping my promises.
> 
> Also, if you've not seen the movie Grease: first of all, what are you doing with your life? And second of all, here is a [video](https://youtu.be/7oKPYe53h78) of the song Tsukki and Bo sing. I listened to it several (too many) times while writing this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kei has a panic attack and someone gets a date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY HEY HEY!
> 
> I promise I haven't abandoned you, my lovely readers! I have been hard at work with my 25 Days of HQ Christmas series which I hope you are reading (I'll link it in the end notes) because there are some fun ships and lots of cuteness and a little angst over there. If you are reading, thank you so much and I appreciate each and every one of you .
> 
> I have been itching to get back to work on this story again because I feel like I've been NEGLECTING you all, so here we are! 
> 
> I'm trying to ease into the sexiness a little so maybe it won't be so jarring when the smut happens, but I'm a forever awkward bean, so I'm not sure how well it's gonna work out. Either way, smut's gonna happen sooner or later, promise. ;)
> 
> As always, comments are my life blood, so please let me know what you think or if you see any corrections that need to happen (esp. with Yama's pronouns- I don't always catch them on my brief runthrough before posting)

Kei wakes up slowly and the first thing he notices is the scent of coffee. Then the headache thudding dully behind his eyes. He’s warm, maybe a little too warm, with a comfortable weight over his calves and his chest and arms. It almost feels like he’s under the weighted blanket Yamaguchi got him back in university to help ease his anxiety. 

He reaches up to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but a tanned arm is draped over his chest, locking his arms to his sides. His foggy brain starts to wake up as he evaluates his current situation. Bokuto is sleeping soundly on his side, curled up between Kei and the back of the couch. There’s a blanket pulled over them, but Kei can feel the pressure of one of Bokuto’s legs thrown haphazardly over his own. His arm is thrown over Ke’s arms and chest and his hand is curled protectively around his arm, as though trying to prevent him from falling off the couch in his sleep. 

Kei tries to shift over, to slip out from Bokuto’s grip, but at the movement, Bo just pulls him closer. He turns his head slightly to the left and his breath hitches when he sees Bokuto’s face. Half-buried in a pillow and topped with bedhead that rivals Kuroo’s, his expression is the most peaceful that Kei has ever seen it. He’s used to Bokuto being all wide smiles, round eyes, and wiggling eyebrows. But sleeping Bokuto is just...breathtaking. He stares and tries not to think how easy it would be to just tip his head a little and press his lips against the soft white hair that’s currently tickling his neck.

A soft _clunk_ pulls Kei out of the rabbit hole his thoughts are going down and he turns to meet Kuroo’s gaze as the other man sets two steaming mugs of coffee on the table. His expression is unreadable, especially since Kei’s still without his glasses, but he’s smiling as he settles his long form on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. 

“Good night?” he asks, smirking as he takes Kei’s glasses off the coffee table and gently slides them over his face. They’re a little crooked, but at least Kei can see now. 

“Uh,” he croaks.

“Looks like you and Bo had a good time,” Kuroo says with a chuckle.

“We fell asleep watching a movie!” Kei snaps, cheeks burning. Kuroo cackles, stirring Bokuto and causing him to pull Kei even closer to him, something Kei wasn’t sure was possible.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Kei hisses at a still-laughing Kuroo. “He’s going to break my ribs if he pulls me any tighter.”

Kuroo grins. “Sorry, sorry. He’s not crushing you too bad is he? Want me to wake him?” Kei rolls his eyes in response, but says nothing. “He’s not used to sleeping on his own anymore. None of us are, really, but Bo is especially cuddly. I’m glad you were able to stay with him last night.” Kuroo pushes a hand affectionately through Kei’s hair, ruffling the blonde curls even more. His eyes flick back and forth between Kei and Bokuto, who now has his face buried in Kei’s neck.

Kei isn’t sure what’s happening, but it’s a lot. It’s too much. Between Kuroo’s hand in his hair and his current position with Bokuto, he’s on sensory overload. His brain is still fuzzy and his body is so warm and he’s sure Kuroo can hear his heart hammering in his chest. He wants to move, to lean into Kuroo’s touch, to close his eyes and sink into the warmth, to not worry about the blood rushing to places it definitely should not be rushing. But every conflicting emotion swirling in his chest is tinged with fear, so he just lays there, frozen, staring off in the distance at some point over Kuroo’s shoulder because he knows if he looks too long into those cat-like eyes, the dam will break and the stupid mix of affection and arousal he’s drowning in will be made clear to the other man.

Then Kuroo’s phone goes off, loudly, and Bokuto startles awake, and the spell is broken.

“Morning, Akaashi,” Kuroo answers the phone. 

“‘Kaashi!” Bokuto croons, voice rough with sleep, shifting around behind Kei and making grabby hands towards the phone. Kei takes the opportunity to escape to the bathroom and splash some cold water on his heated face and try to remember how to breathe.

“I still can’t believe you sang Grease without me!” Yamaguchi whines the following Monday as the group walks back towards the office from lunch. Kei’s been hearing about this since he got back to their apartment on Saturday evening, but now Yamaguchi has a new crowd to whine to and they’re taking full advantage.

“I can’t believe you sang at all!” Kuroo echoes, disbelief and a hint of jealousy clear in his tone. “Way to hold your ground, Tsukki. Who knew you were such a pushover?”

Yamaguchi shoots Kei a smirk at this statement and Kei sends them a look that very clearly reads ‘shut the fuck up or I will graffiti the apartment walls with your eyeliner.’ At least, that’s clearly what it says to Yamaguchi because they just hum noncommittally and look away, but don't say anything. 

“It was glorious!” Bokuto crows, obliviously slinging an arm around Yamaguchi’s shoulder with a grin. “We sounded fantastic!”

“You were wasted,” Kei deadpans. “We probably sounded more like a couple dying cats.” 

“You were wasted, too,” Bokuto counters. “You just don’t remember how great we were!”

“Actually,” Akaashi interrupts, “I’m pretty sure I can solve this argument.”

Kei’s head whips around so fast he’s surprised his glasses don’t fly off. He and Bokuto must come to the same realization at the same time because when Bokuto lays eyes on Akaashi’s phone in his hand, his eyes go wide with excitement and Kei’s stomach drops down to his feet.

“Who…” he manages, eyes flicking between the phone and Akaashi’s face with that stupid, cute half-smile on it.

“Suga took a video of you two,” Akaashi shrugs. “He was recording a bunch of the performances and was going to use them for some end-of-the-year thing, but he sent me yours. Said it was great.”

“See? I told you!” Bokuto cries triumphantly.

“Well what are you waiting for? I want to see!” Kuroo makes a grab for Akaashi’s phone. Akaashi swats Kuroo’s hand away and frowns.

“I wanted to make sure it’s okay with Tsukki if we watch it. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable or embarrassed.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” Bokuto asserts and Akaashi swats Bokuto’s hand as it reaches for his phone, too.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees, “I’m sure if anyone did anything embarrassing, it was Bo, not Tsukki.” He cackles over Bokuto's offended protests.

“Please, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi pipes up and then all four of them are staring at him, even Akaashi, with slightly pleading looks. 

“Fuuuu-” Kei starts, but before the curse is even fully out of his mouth, Bokuto and Kuroo are hooting at each other triumphantly and Akaashi is leading them to a bench off the sidewalk and pulling up the video on his phone.

Kei is ready to die on the spot when the first couple of notes play and he hears himself say that to Bokuto through the phone speakers, but he’s squeezed between Akaashi and Bokuto, so he couldn’t escape if he tried. Yamaguchi is on Akaashi’s other side and Kuroo is hovering behind them, his chin resting on Akaashi’s shoulder. 

He studiously avoids looking at the video, opting instead to watch the others’ reactions because he’s just that much of a masochist. Yamaguchi is wearing a self-satisfied smirk that, were they anybody else, Kei would be tempted to smack right off their face. Bokuto is grinning, of course, bouncing his legs in excitement and tapping his fingers to the music, humming occasionally. Kuroo’s grin is almost as wide as Bo’s and he’s watching with rapt attention, letting out a little huff of laughter every once in a while. Akaashi’s face is nearly unreadable, but he’s watching the video intensely and silently, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Looking at him makes Kei feel too warm and too aware of their thighs pressed together on the small bench and then Akaashi glances over at Kei and his cheeks go a little pink and he gives Kei that shy smile that makes Kei’s stomach flip every time.

The music is winding down and through the speaker, Kei can hear his and Bokuto’s voices being somewhat drowned out by the crowd’s singing- Hanamaki and Matsukawa are particularly vocal by this point- so he allows himself to glance down at the video. His heart jumps into his throat when he sees his own face- Suga has so _kindly_ zoomed in on the two singers. He looks happy, he’s singing and dancing (well, more like swaying and shimmying since he and Bokuto are way closer than he remembers being that night) and his face is flushed with excitement and alcohol. 

But what makes Kei break into a cold sweat and really, fully, in this moment is the look on his face in the video. It isn’t the dazed, flush look of too much alcohol, or the adrenaline rush of being up on stage for the first time in a long time. It’s the way he’s looking at Bokuto in that video, eyes shiny and full of adoration, the way his hand grips Bokuto’s arm as though he might float away if he isn’t touching him. It all adds up to say _I’m falling in love with you_ and it’s plain as day for everyone to see.

The video finally, mercifully, ends and Kei can barely hear the barrage of compliments for the sound of his pulse thumping in his ears. The chorus of “You were so great!” and “Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that!” and “We’re not missing the next karaoke session!” is drowned out by the voice screaming in Kei’s head they know they know they know they k n o w-

“You okay, Tsukki?”

He isn’t sure who spoke, but Akaashi’s cool hand is lightly touching his wrist so he’s pretty sure it was him. Kei clears his throat and stands, a little too quickly to be casual. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just...I’ve got a meeting soon, so…”

He trails off, letting the pathetic lie hang in the air, but nobody questions it. 

By the time Yamaguchi follows him into his basement office, he’s able to breathe normally and he’s stopped sweating, so that’s something. Everybody seemed to sense Kei’s discomfort (not that it was obvious _at all_), so they didn’t discuss the little music video they watched, although Kei knows there is a lot more they all wanted to say about it and he’s sure it’s going to come up again, probably when Akaashi isn’t there to reign the other two in. Either way, the shift in topics helps clear Kei’s mind a little, easing his anxiety, and he’s almost able to say goodbye to everybody normally.

Yamaguchi, on the other hand, is tapping their hand against their leg anxiously, and Kei wonders briefly if anxiety transference is a thing (because if anybody has enough anxiety to share, it’s Kei). But then Yamaguchi approaches Kenma’s desk, smoothing out their loose yellow tunic top and running a hand nervously through their hair which has been left down in loose waves from the braid they slept in last night and it clicks.

Kei sits down at his own desk and busies himself with checking his emails in an attempt to give the two some semblance of privacy, but it’s kind of difficult when their desks are a mere three feet from each other. And it’s not his fault he’s got excellent peripheral vision. And, to be quite honest, most people don’t interest him, but Kei’s quite nosy when it comes to Yamaguchi- a side effect of constantly knowing everything that’s going on with them, probably.

“So,” Yamaguchi says, after a couple minutes of small talk which, frankly, Kei is still amazed they can get Kenma to engage in at all. 

“So,” Kenma repeats, an amused smirk playing at his lips. 

“So, there’s a festival this weekend. Actually it’s going on all week, but they aren’t starting the fireworks ‘til Friday, so that’s when we’re going. Me and my friends- just a small group of us. But I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come with me. Well, with me and my friends. But, you know, as my date.” Yamaguchi finally snaps their mouth shut, cheeks pink.

Kenma takes half a second too long to respond, though, which is enough time for Yamaguchi to start babbling again, much to Kei’s dismay. The secondhand embarrassment he feels at Yamaguchi’s display is so strong he starts to think maybe anxiety transference _is_ entirely possible. And it’s not like Yamaguchi’s even being particularly embarrassing, it’s just so interesting seeing them this flustered, like they’re both back in middle school. Kei wonders if this is what it feels like when Yamaguchi watches him interact with Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi and cringes internally.

“Or, I mean, not necessarily as my date. You could just come with us as fr-”

“I’ll go,” Kenma’s voice is quiet, but firm. His expression is mostly neutral, but his eyes are shiny when he peeks up at Yamaguchi through his hair and there’s a touch of pink to his cheeks. “I’d like to...to be your date,” he mumbles.

“Really? Wow, great! Okay! That sounds...great!” 

Yamaguchi’s smile is blinding as the two exchange numbers with the promise to send Kenma the details and dashes out the door, completely ignoring Kei’s wave goodbye in their excitement. Kei supposes he can forgive them for the slight, though, especially when he sees the way that Kenma is staring at the door they just left through. 

At least, he’s forgiven Yamaguchi until his phone buzzes with a text a few minutes later.

**YamaJama [1:32 pm]**  
_Your turn, chicken-shit._

Kei sighs and thumps his head down on his desk, ignoring Kenma’s inquisitive look.

_Goddammit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [25 Days of HQ Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633988/chapters/51586609)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory festival chapter, part 1!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am not dead! December and the first part of January have royally kicked my ass, but my mental and physical health are on the upswing so I'm taking advantage while I can!
> 
> I'm sorry it's been so long, but I feel like I've finally gotten back into the groove (and with the release of season four on VRV, I'm feeling -iNsPiReD- so there's that!
> 
> There was more I wanted to put in this chapter, but it was getting a little out of hand, so this will not be the end of the festival. And! I am planning a side story for sweet bby Yama and sweet bby Kenma's date, so you can hopefully be on the lookout for that! I hope to be able to link it in the chapter notes when I post part two of this chapter. <3
> 
> As always, comments are sooo appreciated! They keep me inspired and my day gets significantly brighter when that little AO3 email pops up!

Kei stands next to Yamaguchi in front of the floor length mirror in his bedroom and regards himself critically. He smooths a hand down the front of his yukata, a midnight blue thing dotted with silver moons that he hasn’t worn in years, and frowns. 

He feels ridiculous in his traditional clothing, too tall and awkward to carry it off, especially compared to Yamaguchi, whose white yukata is printed with pale pink cherry blossoms that brings out a brightness in their brown eyes. They look bright and festive and confident, despite the excitement and nerves that radiate off of them in waves. Kei just feels like he’s wearing a bathrobe. But Yamaguchi had to open their big mouth during lunch on Wednesday and Bokuto and Kuroo had practically cried when he said he wasn’t planning on wearing it. So, of course, here he is. Wearing his yukata.

_What a sucker_ he thinks, glaring at himself in the mirror.

“Tsukki, if you telepathically shatter this mirror while I’m trying to finish my eyeliner, I’m going to murder you.”

Yamaguchi’s half-hearted threat breaks the line of tension running through Kei and he’s able to snort out a laugh. He goes back to watching Yamaguchi carefully smooth a delicate blackish-grey line under their left eye and shudders, unable to fathom how easy they make it look. He can’t even stand putting contacts in, let alone drawing around his eyeballs, no matter how many times Yamaguchi tells him he’d look great wearing it.

Yamaguchi’s just put the cap on their eyeliner when a loud bang at the front door followed by a clatter and some muffled shouting startles the two roommates. Once the voices become recognizable to Kei, he narrows his eyes at his roommate in the mirror who simply shrugs, feigning innocence, and goes back to picking invisible lint off their yukata.

“You did not.”

Yamaguchi smiles, ignoring Kei’s overdramatic eye roll. “Just, “ they wave a hand vaguely, “be nice.” They poke Kei gently on his cheek when his lips turn down in a frown at the instruction. “Besides, Tsukki, we made plans to go to the festival long before you and your boyfriends did.”

“Did you say boyfriend?” A head full of orange curls pokes into the doorway, immediately setting Kei’s teeth on edge. Hinata’s hair is ruffled and his yukata, black with a feathery grey print, is rumpled and tied haphazardly, indicative of a scuffle with Kageyama on the way in or just general disinterest in his own appearance. Most likely both. “Did you get a boyfriend, Tsukki?”

He grits his teeth at the unwelcome use of the nickname, but manages a terse, “Hello, shrimp,” though he ignores Hinata’s questions entirely. For Yamaguchi’s sake. 

“I think they said boyfriends, actually. As in more than one.” Kageyama, as usual, isn’t far behind Hinata. He regards Kei cooly from under an arched eyebrow, covered slightly by the black fringe that hangs in his face. He is clearly irritated with the blonde already. 

It’s not like it’s his fault that Kageyama can only communicate his obvious (to everyone except Hinata) affection for Hinata through insults, so anyone else who calls the hyper little redhead names is immediately perceived as a threat. Honestly, Kei would probably get along with Kageyama- he’s pretty quiet for the most part and his spouting off of insults is amusing, if not always creative- if not for the fact that the guy constantly looks at him as though he’s after Hinata’s ass.

“Whaa?! How many?!” Hinata bounces on the balls of his feet, looking between Kei and Yamaguchi, brown eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Tch,” Kei clicks his tongue, feeling his cheeks flush slightly, annoyed with his so-called friends. He ignores their expectant smiles and amused smirks (or, in Yamaguchi’s case, a combination of the two). “Where’s Yachi? Can we get out of here yet?” The apartment suddenly feels too hot and constricted. He’s anxious to see the three companions he has waiting for him and to be rid of the ones he currently has.

“Yachi had to work late, so she’ll meet up with us later,” Hinata says and, for once, Kei is grateful for both his short attention span and his tendency to ramble. “She has a big project she’s working on and her client changed their mind a ton of times about the color and the font and what even is the difference between violet and indigo? Aren’t they both just purple?” 

“Dumbass, indigo is blue, not purple.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“What are you, colorblind?”

“You’re colorblind!”

Kei shoots a glare at Yamaguchi and makes a gesture toward the two idiots who continue to bicker about whether indigo is more blue or purple. And despite the fact that Yamaguchi could nip this argument in the bud now- if there’s anyone Hinata and Kageyama won’t argue with, it’s Yamaguchi, for some reason- they apparently are content to ride this one out. Whether that’s due to amusement over the argument itself or a love for torturing Kei is up for debate.

By the time the group arrives at the festival, Kei is ready to throttle both halves of the idiot duo. They’ve gone from arguing about the color indigo to arguing about getting a kitten (Yachi is allergic, so it’s a moot point anyway) to arguing about whether or not Kageyama will buy Hinata cotton candy (he will, though he won’t admit it in front of the rest of them).

The sound of their arguing falls into static in Kei’s head, though, as they approach the group waiting at the main entrance because Akaashi, Kuroo, and Bokuto all look absolutely _delicious_ in their yukatas and his mouth goes dry and he literally has to remind himself to _fucking breathe_. He suddenly can’t decide if he’s more self conscious about how he looks in his own yukata or the way he’s looking at them. He can’t figure out where to look first and he knows that the way his eyes are flicking between the three of them make him look a little crazy, but they just look so good, he wants to commit them all to memory. 

Akaashi is wearing that eyeliner again and his yukata is a silvery grey color printed with large purple and white plum blossoms. He’s typing away on his phone and leaning slightly on Bokuto who’s in this bright blue color that contrasts with his tanned skin in a way that should be illegal. A white wave pattern is printed on Bo’s yukata and it comes down in a deep v due to the broadness of his chest which, by the way, should also be illegal. When he sees Kei and his group approaching, his face brightens and he reaches over to slap Kuroo on the arm who, in turn, begins elbowing Kenma excitedly, drawing a look of disdain from the shorter man. Kuroo’s yukata is a simple black cloth with red edging and a red obi; it’s deceptively simple and Kei’s a little confused (because Kuroo is anything but subtle) until he gets closer and sees that his obi is printed with tiny black cats which is way more fitting and so cute it makes Kei want to punch something.

Kei sneaks a glance at Yamaguchi, but his friend is long gone, eyes trained fully on Kenma. He can practically see the heart eyes popping out of their face as they look at Kenma with an uncharacteristically shy expression. It makes Kei happy to see Yamaguchi so taken with someone he knows is a genuinely good guy, if a little quirky, but it also kind of makes him want to vomit.

“Whoaaaa, are any of those guys your boyfriends, Tsukki? They’re so big and-” Hinata’s excited shrieks are cut off abruptly as Kei reaches over without looking at the redhead and flicks his ear sharply. It’s clear he’s been heard, though, as Kuroo’s lips curl up in a lazy grin, Bokuto throws his head back and laughs, and even Akaashi hides a small smile behind his hand, the traitor. 

“Shut it,” Kei grumbles, and it’s unclear whether he’s talking to Hinata or the three men waiting for him at the entrance. It’s not like it matters, though, because everyone just snickers louder and ignores the eye daggers Kei shoots at every single one of them.

And then Hinata opens his mouth again and peppers Bokuto with questions about what he eats and how much can he lift and where does he work out and Kei has to consciously regulate his breathing to keep from thumping him on the head. For his part, Bokuto just looks amused (though not as amused as Kuroo, who is doubled over laughing), and does his best to answer the questions thrown at him before Hinata barrages him with more. Kei guesses it’s not often that Bokuto meets someone with enough energy to rival his own. The only thing that makes the entire scenario bearable is when Hinata asks if he can feel Bokuto’s muscles; Kei glances over at Kageyama and the poor guy looks about ready to combust, torn between glaring at Bokuto and also being a little afraid of him. Kei almost feels sorry for him.

Yamaguchi and Kenma are already in their own world, standing off to the side and speaking with each other in hushed tones Kei can’t quite make out and quiet smiles he can clearly interpret. Kei gives it thirty minutes tops before Yamaguchi figures out a way for the two of them to slip away from Hinata and Kageyama. And unfortunately, since Yamaguchi is otherwise occupied, it’s up to him to make introductions before he makes his own escape, preventing Hinata from feeling up Bokuto and Kageyama from attempting murder in the process. And he has to do it quickly before Hinata pulls any of them into another conversation that he won’t get out of for another forty-five minutes.

“Hinata, Kageyama, Akaashi, Bokuto, Kuroo.” He points at each of them, turns to give Yamaguchi a half-hearted wave and grabs the closest arm (Kuroo’s) and drags him through the front entrance, ignoring protests from both sides. “Later,” he calls over his shoulder, though, in reality, he has no intention of catching up with them again that night. 

Once they’ve gotten a safe distance away from the other group, Kei attempts to drop his hold on Kuroo’s arm; Kuroo isn’t having it, though, and loops his arm through Kei’s, pulling the blonde close to his side. Kei glances at him, but Kuroo is simply looking ahead at the crowd and the food stalls and his smile is hard to read. Walking arm in arm with Kuroo is far from unpleasant, especially with Bokuto and Akaashi trailing close behind them and chattering, so Kei does his best to swallow down his anxiety and enjoy the moment.

“Your friends seem…” Akaashi speaks as they stand off to the side, allowing Bokuto to survey the stalls and decide where they should eat. There are lots of options, but Bokuto’s the most decisive and has an innate ability to choose the best places to eat, so they let him.

“Annoying? Obnoxious? The literal definition of ‘pain in my ass’?” Kei supplies.

Akaashi laughs, a sound that never fails to warm Kei from the inside out, and nudges Kei with his shoulder. “I was actually going to say ‘interesting,’ but we can go with those.”

“Especially the little one- Hinata, right?” Kuroo looks to Kei for affirmation. “He’s adorable, isn’t he, Bo?”

Bokuto beams at them, unphased by Kei’s look of utter disgust. “Like a little baby bird! I just wanted to squeeze him!”

Kei grimaces at the two of them. “Better not let Kageyama hear you say that,” he huffs.

“Oh? Are they dating?” Akaashi raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

Kei shrugs. “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. As soon as they get their heads out of their respective asses. It’s disgustingly obvious to everyone except them that they’re into each other.”

Akaashi, Kuroo, and Bokuto exchange a look at that and Kei frowns, sensing that they’re having a full silent conversation in the span of those few moments. Something in his gut twists and he shuffles to the side, putting a little distance between himself and the others. It's times like this he is reminded that no matter how close the four of them have gotten, no matter how strong his feelings for all three men are, he'll always be on the outside looking in. The three of them have such an incredibly strong bond and, while Kei wouldn't ever want to break it (even if such a thing were possible- he's pretty sure it isn't, though), he wonders what it would be like to share that bond with them. To be privy to all the inside jokes, the meaningful looks he still has trouble deciphering, to be so keyed in to the slightest shift in mood that nobody has to speak for everything to be understood. 

He can feel his thoughts spiraling unpleasantly and his first instinct, as always, is to text Yamaguchi. But Yamaguchi is on a date and Kei’s not about to interrupt that so they can talk him down, though he knows they would in a heartbeat. But Kei likes Kenma a lot and would hate to put a damper on their evening together, especially when he’s the one that pushed Yamaguchi to ask Kenma out in the first place. 

A thick arm wraps around his waist, pulling him physically and metaphorically out of his not-quite anxiety attack and when he turns his head, he’s met with Bokuto’s grin, so open and honest that he wonders if he imagined the whole silent conversation from before. Despite the height difference, Bokuto tucks Kei into his side like he belongs there and Kei lets him. Akaashi sidles up on Kei’s other side, bumping his shoulder gently and Kuroo drapes his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. Their closeness grounds him and makes him nervous all at the same time, but at least he’s breathing okay again so that’s something.

“Yakisoba okay? Bo found a place that looks good.” Akaashi asks gently. His blue-grey eyes roam Kei’s face and the blonde is overcome with the feeling that Akaashi can see into his soul. It’s unsettling how someone so quiet can have such presence with just a simple look. Kei’s always thought he was a fairly closed book, prided himself on it really, but when Akaashi looks at him it feels like all his feelings are just laid bare for him to sift through and the idea that he, or any of them, knows how he feels brings a flush to his cheeks and a weird bubbly feeling in his stomach.

“Illegal,” he mumbles to himself, trying to ignore the heat radiating from beneath Bokuto’s hand.

“What?” Kuroo asks, leaning across Akaashi to get in as much of Kei's space as possible. He cackles as Kei just puts his hand over his face and shoves him away.

“Nothing,” he manages, tearing his eyes away from Akaashi. "Yakisoba sounds great. They follow Bokuto’s lead, Kei doing his best to concentrate on the here and now and ignore Yamaguchi’s voice that keeps ringing through his head.

_When are you going to tell them how you feel?_

_I’ve seen the way they look at you._

_It’s obvious how much you all care about each other._

_You can’t see what’s so clear to everyone else._

And as Bokuto orders their dinner from the food stall, pays, and passes the bowls around before leading them over to a small bench to sit entirely too close together and eat, all without removing his arm from Kei’s waist, Kei realizes how well and truly fucked he is.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert Michael Scott GIF here:
> 
> "Oh my God! Okay, it's happening!"
> 
> I hope you all love this chapter as much as I love you all. 
> 
> <3

Kei’s always found games of aim and precision soothing. Having a clear and attainable goal- a small target to shoot, a ring to toss on an impossibly placed bottle, or a specific color of balloon to pop with a dart- allows him to narrow his focus and eases the anxiety he constantly has running through his body. And even from a young age, he’s been freakishly good at them; he’s never really cared for the plushies or cheap toys he wins, but the actual winning of seemingly impossible or rigged games always leaves him feeling triumphant and just a little bit smug.

The fact that Akaashi’s cheeks go the cutest shade of pink and Bokuto looks at him like he’s hung the moon itself when he hands them the plushies he’s won for them (a gray and white owl for Akaashi and a hedgehog for Bokuto) is just a really big bonus. 

“That one,” he says, pointing at a plush black cat from the top tier of prizes. It’s nearly as big as Kei’s torso and wearing a purple witch hat dotted with silver moons and stars and Kuroo’s been eyeing it for at least the last twenty minutes. 

“Tsuuukkiiiii!” Kuroo croons happily, dark eyes locked on the cat as the booth operator hands it over. He leans close into Kei’s space and grins. “You’re so talented! What did we do to deserve you?”

Kei’s cheeks flare up and he snatches the toy out of the operator’s hands and shoves it roughly into Kuroo’s chest, attempting to push him away. As usual, Kuroo has no concept of personal space and just wraps his arms around Kei’s waist to hug him, crushing the cat between their chests. Their faces are so close, they’re practically breathing each other’s air and Kei is so grateful for the plushie trapped between them as he’s sure that’s the only thing keeping Kuroo from hearing and feeling his heart pounding way too loud and way too fast. 

Kuroo’s lips curl up into that devilish, knowing smirk, but his dark eyes are soft and that, in combination with the scent of his hair product, sends a chill up Kei’s spine. In that moment, Kei wants nothing more than to close the gap between their lips, to shove that annoying plush cat out of the way, to run his hands through Kuroo’s stupid bedhead, maybe pull on it a little just to hear what kind of noises he’ll make.

Fortunately, Kuroo releases him almost as quickly as he trapped him. “Thanks, Tsukki,” Kuroo huffs out, cheeks pink. Air rushes back into Kei’s lungs and he’s surprised to find that he’d been holding his breath. 

“It’s nothing,” Kei says, smoothing down his yukata in an attempt to regain his composure. He’s unable to contain his smile, though, as he watches Kuroo cradle the stuffed cat in his arms like a baby. “What do you guys want to do next? We’ve still got a little time before we need to find a place to sit for the fireworks.”

“Rides!” Bokuto crows, attention finally pulled away from the stuffed hedgehog he’s been nuzzling his face against. Kuroo grins, nodding enthusiastically.

Akaashi grimaces and Kei echoes the sentiment. He can deal with heights if the ground beneath his feet is solid, but he’s got little faith in the quick construction on the festival rides. He knows that, statistically, he’s not likely to get hurt, but statistics can only do so much to quell his rising anxiety as he eyes the rides warily.

“Yeah, I’m gonna sit those out,” Kei says. 

Bokuto’s face falls and he looks ready to protest, but Akaashi gently lays a hand on his chest to quiet him before he can even start. Bokuto’s face relaxes at the touch and his hand moves almost automatically to cup Akaashi’s face. Kei’s chest tightens, but it’s fondness, not jealousy, that’s overwhelming him. He turns away, knowing his face will betray him if they happen to glance over.

“I’m gonna sit out, too. I ate too much. I’ll puke if I go on any rides right now,” Akaashi says, shooting Kei a small smile. “We’ll walk around and find a spot for the fireworks.”

Kuroo’s eyes flick between Kei and Akaashi for a moment before his face splits into a huge grin and he hooks his arm through Bokuto’s. “Sounds good! Shoot us a text when you find a spot. We’ll meet up with you before dusk.” He holds out the cat to Kei. “Will you take care of Jiji while I’m gone?”

Kei smirks, but takes the cat anyway. Bokuto reluctantly releases his hedgehog (he still can’t decide on a name for it) into Akaashi’s custody, and the two duos part ways.

“Ice cream?” Akaashi asks, nodding his head at a nearby dessert booth. They’ve been wandering aimlessly for a while, stopping every so often to eye some of the items random booths are selling. Akaashi lingers at a booth selling beautifully printed silk scarves, feeling the fabric between his fingers, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He ultimately doesn’t buy anything, but Kei files the color and print away for later.

“I thought you ate too much already?” Kei quirks an eyebrow, bumping Akaashi’s shoulder gently with his own. Akaashi shrugs and looks at Kei with that half-smile, but doesn’t say anything. “I knew you were lying,” Kei accuses, pursing his lips. “You didn’t have to sit out on my account.”

Akaashi hums, turning his gaze back to the dessert booth. “I’m not as big an adrenaline junkie as those two are. This is better.” His smile widens just a fraction and Kei’s stomach flips. His brain can’t come up with an intelligible response to that, but fortunately for the small sliver of pride he has left, Akaashi keeps talking. “What about you? I didn’t expect you to be scared of the rides, but you went white as a sheet as soon as Bo mentioned them.”

Kei grimaces. “I’m not trusting my life to something that big and fast that can also be built and torn down within the same day.”

“That is...actually a very valid point,” Akaashi laughs as they approach the booth. He pulls out a couple of bills and lays them down on the counter. “What do you want? My treat.” 

Kei gets a shaved ice and Akaashi gets a strawberry cone and Kei is so grateful when they find a vacant bench to sit on because Akaashi eating an ice cream cone is honestly so distracting it could and should be labelled a trip hazard. He’s focusing so hard on _not_ watching Akaashi’s mouth or his lips or his tongue that he trips over his feet twice and narrowly avoids running into at least three people. Akaashi doesn’t seem to notice though, or at least if he does, he’s too polite to say anything. Not that that prevents Kei from wanting to melt into the ground in embarrassment. 

Kei places Jiji swiftly between them and Akaashi’s lips turn down momentarily before he places Bokuto’s hedgehog and his own owl plushie down with the cat. He stretches out his legs a little and Kei sees that his toenails are painted the same deep purple as some of the plum blossoms printed on his yukata. 

_Cute. Cute. Cute._

Kei tears his eyes away before his thoughts can wander too far and busies himself with stabbing his spoon in his shaved ice and definitely _not_ looking anywhere near Akaashi’s mouth. Thank god his ice cream cone is almost gone. 

Not that he’s paying attention.

“It’ll be at least a week before the poor thing has a name,” Akaashi finally says, gesturing at the hedgehog and jerking Kei out of his thoughts. “Bo’s so indecisive about these things. When we were kids, his parents got him a cat. He had him for a month and a half before he could decide on a name and by then he only responded to ‘Cat’ anyway so it didn’t even matter.”

Kei chuckles around a mouthful of shaved ice. This new information doesn’t surprise him and serves only to endear the man to him further. A familiar surge of fondness rushes through him as he imagines the pouty face he must have made upon realizing that the name he spent so much time carefully choosing was immediately dismissed. 

“What about yours?” Kei asks, tugging gently on the owl’s ear. “Got a name picked out for this one yet?”

Akaashi looks down at the owl fondly, then back up at Kei and smiles, eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “That’s Bo Junior.”

“Oh my god.” 

“It looks like him, doesn’t it? Especially when he spikes his hair up.” Akaashi pops the last bite of his cone in his mouth and holds up the owl. Kei has to admit he’s right- the black and white coloring and large golden eyes are weirdly reminiscent of Bo. “Hey, hey hey!” Akaashi chirps, wiggling the plushie around in a scarily accurate imitation of Bokuto’s wild, enthusiastic movements.

“Oh my god,” Kei repeats, unable to bite back the honest-to-god giggles that escape him. “You are...not wrong,” he says with a grin. 

Akaashi lowers the owl, a small, pleased smile settling across his lips. “You should do that more often,” he says abruptly. 

“Do what?” 

“Laugh. Like, really laugh,” Akaashi says. His cheeks are a little flushed and his eyes are locked on Kei’s and the blonde feels like he’s in some kind of trance. “You don’t...not much anyway. It’s nice to hear.”

Kei clutches the empty paper cup in his hand, regretting eating the shaved ice so fast. He could really use a distraction right now. Or something to cool him down. Or both.

“You’re one to talk,” he mumbles, averting his gaze.

“Touche,” Akaashi snorts.

The sun is starting to set, streaks of pink and orange rapidly coloring the sky. The crowd is starting to disperse a little at a time, couples walking hand-in-hand and parents carrying their little ones on their shoulders or hips towards clearings where they can sit and watch the fireworks. 

“Should we go find somewhere to sit?” Kei asks, tossing his crumpled paper cup in a nearby recycling bin.

Akaashi is already on his phone, typing out a quick message to Kuroo and Bokuto. “I know a place,” he says, smiling as Kei gathers up the plushies in his arms. He curls his fingers into Kei’s sleeve and gives it a gentle tug. “Come with me,” he murmurs, not letting go of Kei’s sleeve the entire way.

They end up outside of the festival grounds, but Kei doesn’t mind at all. It’s much less crowded here, the air smells cleaner, and the small hill the four of them settle on is backed by a half-circle of trees giving the illusion of privacy. There are a few other groups of people in sight, but they’re few and far between, each wrapped up in their own world. As the sun dips lower and lower in the sky, they become harder to see and easier to ignore.

Kei leans back on his elbows, watching the darkness creep in around them. He’s fit snugly between Bokuto and Akaashi because, even though they have the whole hill to themselves, there can’t seem to be more than a few centimeters of space between them. Kuroo is stretched out on his side, head in Akaashi’s lap and Kei watches Akaashi aimlessly card his slender fingers through the messy black hair. He must be making even more of a mess of it than usual, but Kuroo’s eyes are closed and he’s practically purring at the touch so it doesn’t seem to matter. 

Bokuto is uncharacteristically quiet. The initial excitement and adrenaline from the rides seems to have worn off and now he’s sitting, body angled toward Kei, soft smile on his lips as he watches the movement of Akaashi’s hands through Kuroo’s hair. His features are lit by the rapidly setting sun, the white of his hair taking on a purplish hue, golden eyes shining even brighter than normal. It’s hard to look at him, but even harder to look away when he turns his head and catches Kei’s eyes with his own. 

“I had fun today, even if you two party poopers wouldn’t go on the rides with us,” Bokuto finally says, breaking the heavy silence.

Kei wrinkles his nose. “I’m just glad you guys didn’t die on those death traps.”

Kuroo cracks one eye open and grins. “Aw, Tsukki, that’s so sweet. You do care about us!”

“Okay, maybe I’m only a little glad you didn’t die.”

Akaashi snorts out a laugh and Kuroo opens his mouth to protest, but is abruptly cut off by the loud crack of the first firework shooting into the sky. 

The sudden sound takes Kei by surprise, making him jump and sit up slightly. A wave of embarrassment hits him, but only momentarily because before he realizes what’s happening, a hand slips into his, strong fingers threaded through his own. Bokuto’s face is lit up by the bright flashes of color spreading across the sky and he looks at Kei with a slightly hesitant smile, an expression he’s never seen the normally boisterous and overly confident man wear before. 

“Okay?” he asks. Kei isn’t sure if he’s talking about the fireworks or the hand-holding, but he doesn’t really want either to stop, so he tries to ignore the feeling that his heart is going to leap out of his throat and nods. He can’t say anything, positive that his voice will betray him. Bokuto’s smile brightens with the confidence that Kei is used to seeing and he turns back to the firework display. 

Kei tries to focus on the fireworks- it really is an impressive display- but his hand feels like it’s burning where Bokuto’s fingers are slotted between his own and every time his slightly calloused thumb strokes across Kei’s knuckles, it leaves a trail of sparks in its wake. Akaashi leans into Kei, resting his head on his shoulder. Dark curls tickle Kei’s jawline and his breath hitches.

He’s about to jump out of his own skin and, as much as he wants to, he can’t seem to relax into Akaashi’s touch. His thoughts are going a million miles a minute and he can’t seem to grasp any single one to focus on. Kei’s overcome with the need to move, to get away from the overwhelming closeness of the bodies surrounding him, but he can’t seem to spark any connection between his brain and his body, so he sits, trying his best to keep his eyes trained on the showers of blue, purple, and green sparkling in the sky.

“Hey, Tsukki?” Bokuto’s voice is low in his ear. He shouldn’t be able to hear it over the noise of the fireworks, but he’s so hyper-aware of the other man, he can’t even pretend he didn’t hear him. He turns his head slightly, raising his brows questioningly. Bokuto’s eyes flick from Kei’s face over to Akaashi and Kuroo, seeming to ask a silent question. He feels Akaashi’s smile grow where his face is pressed against his shoulder and Bokuto’s eyes slide back to Kei’s face. “I just need to check something,” he says.

Then Bokuto shifts and brings his free hand up to cup Kei’s jaw. The hand holding Kei’s tightens and he knows what’s coming but it seems like a dream, like this can’t possibly be happening, even as Bokuto’s face leans closer to his own. His brain is fuzzy, full of static that drowns out everything, even the booms and pops of the fireworks, even the pounding of his heart which he swears has to be even louder than the fireworks. 

And then Bo’s lips press against his own, firm and sure and warm, and there’s blissful silence. He thinks for a moment he might have gone spontaneously deaf, that the sudden pressure against his lips and the force of his heart jackhammering against his ribs have worked together to rid him of one of his senses. But he definitely hears the embarrassing sigh that escapes him as Bokuto tilts his head to better fit their mouths together. Bo takes the opportunity to run his tongue tentatively over Kei’s lower lip, pausing when he gets to his lip piercing to toy gently with the slender metal ring before pulling away. Another embarrassing noise leaves Kei’s lips when Bokuto pulls away, but he’s too focused on memorizing the taste and texture of Bokuto’s lips and the giddy expression on the other man’s face to care.

Kei’s fingers curl tighter around Bokuto’s and as he struggles to pull himself out of his dazed stupor, he realizes that somewhere along the line, Kuroo has taken his other hand and is rubbing small circles on the sensitive skin along the inside of his wrist. In the dark, Kei can just make out the lazy smile on Kuroo’s face, his cat-like eyes fully trained on Kei. Akaashi’s drawn back only slightly to allow for some breathing room, but he’s also watching Kei intensely, searching his face for any sign of discomfort or anxiety.

And, surprisingly, there is none. Instead, Kei just feels like everything’s clicked into place. 

He looks back at Akaashi, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face. Bokuto’s hand is still lingering on Kei’s jaw, not in an attempt to hold him or move him, but more in an unwillingness to cut off physical contact. Akaashi simply rests his hand over Bokuto’s, threading their fingers together, and leans in for his own kiss. Akaashi is softer, more hesitant than Bokuto, but no less pleasant. 

His touch is light, almost teasing, and sends a shiver up his spine, especially when he brings his free hand up to trail across Kei’s cheekbone, around the shell of his ear, and finally stroking the sensitive spot behind his earlobe. He can feel Akaashi’s lips curving into a smile under his own and when they part, Akaashi simply rests his forehead against Kei’s and looks at him through thick, dark lashes and it’s all Kei can do not to lunge forward and capture those soft lips again.

“Tsukki,” a gentle tug on his hand draws his attention to where Kuroo has shifted up in Akaashi’s lap so he is closer to eye-level. He waggles his eyebrows and smirks, earning himself a healthy eye roll from Kei. Akaashi and Bokuto’s hands drop off Kei’s face as they watch the exchange, amused smiles mirroring each other. Kuroo tugs Kei’s hand again, gently but insistently, and Kei allows himself to be pulled down to meet Kuroo’s lips.

Kuroo is far less patient than Bokuto or Akaashi. His mouth surges over Kei’s with the same confidence he has with everything he does, tilting his head to get a better angle and allowing his teeth to graze over Kei’s bottom lip. He pulls Kei’s hand up to rest on the crook of his shoulder, freeing up his own hand to fist gently over the collar of his yukata. Kei’s hand rests on Kuroo’s shoulder for only a moment before it’s drawn, almost magnetically, into that bedhead and it’s every bit as soft as he thought it would be. 

His fingers tighten over Bokuto’s again and the other man huffs out a laugh and leans forward to speak lowly in Kuroo’s ear.

“Tets,” he murmurs and Kei can feel the shiver his voice pulls out of Kuroo. “Want to at least ask him to date us before you suffocate him with your face?”

Kuroo pulls back with a chuckle. “Sorry,” he says, biting his lip and looking at Kei through hooded lids that heats up something deep in his gut. “Got carried away.”

“So what do you say, Tsukki?” Bokuto says.

“Would you want to try,” Akaashi gestures between the four of them, “this?”

“I-” Kei’s voice cracks and he takes a breath, tries again. “You want to date me? _All_ of you?”

“I mean, technically the four of us would be dating each other, but, yeah, that’s the general idea.” Kuroo laughs.

“You’re...serious.” Kei’s eyes flick between the three men. Despite the kissing and the serious looks on their faces, the idea that he’s done anything in his life to deserve dating these three, that they could have genuine feelings for him the way he does for them just escapes him.

“You know, for someone who is so smart, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.” Akaashi says in the blunt tone he typically reserves for Bokuto. 

Bokuto grins at Kei’s dumbfounded look, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against the sharp line of Kei’s jaw. “Yeah, man, it’s not like we’ve been subtle or anything. We’ve all liked you for a long time.”

Something inside Kei flips at those words and he’s no longer capable of keeping the biggest, dumbest, grin off his face. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m never going to hear the end of this from Yamaguchi.” 

Kuroo leans in closer, practically nose-to-nose with Kei. “So is that a ‘yes’ then?”

Kei closes the short gap, pressing a swift, firm kiss to Kuroo’s lips and effectively wiping the smirk off his face the way he’s always wanted to.

“Yeah, it is,” he manages before his voice is drowned out by Bokuto’s hoots and he's tackled to the ground under his three boyfriends, all four of them dissolving into giddy laughter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you thought the confession would make Tsukki less of a hot mess, you were sorely mistaken!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had originally planned on including dinner with Yams and Yachi in this chapter, but life and things got outta hand, so *vague gesture* here you go. I only pushed it back, though, so you'll still get it. And I have been thinking a lot about KuroTsukki, so I really needed them to have some q u a l i t y time. :)
> 
> 9 chapters in and I _think_ I might know where this is going now. We'll see.

It doesn’t take long for Kei to come down from the high of the evening. About as long as the walk from the festival grounds back to his apartment for him to change and pick up his overnight bag, actually. As much as he wants to just bask in the newness of the relationship, the louder, logical side of his brain is bursting with questions about logistics and expectations. He knows they’re going to have to have the conversation sooner or later, uncomfortable as it makes him, but something makes him want to push it aside for just a little longer. 

He emerges from his bedroom, far more comfortable in a pair of worn jeans and a soft tee shirt that he’s owned since at least high school. Kuroo’s standing behind Bokuto, chin resting on a broad shoulder and long arms wrapped around him, carefully inspecting one of his bookshelves. It’s hard to see what books are actually on it for all the pictures Yamaguchi has crammed on the shelves. They are mostly photos of Kei, Yamaguchi, and Yachi, as well as the occasional family member of the latter two. Kageyama’s permanent scowl and Hinata’s blinding smile make their appearances, too. If Kuroo or Bokuto notice the absence of any photos of Kei's family, they don't mention it.

“Is this Yachi?” Kuroo asks, pointing at one of Kei’s favorites of the three of them and Kei nods an affirmation, lips instinctively quirking up. 

The photo he's looking at is a selfie Yamaguchi snapped on a rare night out during the trio’s final year at university, their grinning, freckled face in the lower right corner of the frame. Kei didn’t know until the picture was printed, though, that Yamaguchi had really been trying to capture Kei walking behind them, laughing at something Yachi’s saying, carrying the tiny blonde piggy-back style. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes wide with surprise, feet bare. One arm is gripped around Kei’s neck, the other gesticulating wildly with a pair of red shoes in hand. Kei smiles at the memory, recalling how Yachi’s heel broke on the way home that night, her surprised squeak when he scooped her up, followed quickly by triumphant shouts about finally being the tallest in the group.

"She's cute," Bokuto comments. "Seems like fun."

“I suppose you’ll have to meet her soon enough.”

“Hm, don’t sound so excited to introduce us to all your friends,” Akaashi laughs, slipping his hand into Kei’s and pulling him down just far enough that he can brush a feather-light kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s more not wanting to introduce my friends to you,” he mumbles, crinkling his nose. His mind flashes back to Hinata bouncing around Bokuto like a toddler to Kageyama trying to set Bokuto’s face on fire with his mind and he cringes. “I suppose you’ve already met the worst of them, though.” 

“I’m sorry, have you met those two idiots you’re dating?” Akaashi’s lips quirk up in a smirk that only widens when Kuroo and Bokuto turn to them wearing matching offended expressions.

“Good point,” Kei deadpans.

“Hey, you’re dating us, too!” Bokuto points out.

Akaashi snorts. “Not for your brains, clearly.”

“So mean!” Kuroo pouts, burying his face even further into Bokuto’s neck. Bokuto makes a show of comforting Kuroo, patting his head and pressing loud, smacking kisses all over his face. The charade devolves quickly into a game of grab-ass as soon as Bokuto (impressively, in Kei’s opinion) scoops up Kuroo’s lanky form to cradle him against his chest.

Akaashi rolls his eyes at the spectacle. “And thank you two for proving my point. Are we ready to go?”

“Uh, sure,” Kei says, shifting his bag on his shoulder.

Bokuto senses his hesitation almost immediately. “What’s wrong, Tsukki?” he asks, setting Kuroo down gently.

Kei chews the inside of his cheek, acutely aware of three sets of concerned eyes trained on him but unable to meet any of them. He shuffles his feet and after an agonizing silence, finally forces the most important question (or at least the easiest one to voice) past his lips.

“I just...how does this all work?” He grimaces at the vague question even as it leaves his mouth. “The four of us,” he adds in a pitiful attempt to elaborate.

They seem to understand, though, and all take a moment to consider before Bokuto finally answers. “I mean, it already works, right?” he chuckles lightly when Kei’s face scrunches up in confusion and reaches a hand out to smooth the crease between his eyebrows. “I just...I guess...not a lot changed when ‘Kaashi, Kuroo, and I decided to go from friends to boyfriends-”

“Well, some things changed,” Kuroo butts in, leaning into Akaashi and giving an exaggerated wink before waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Akaashi claps a hand over Kuroo’s mouth and pushes him away, eyes still locked seriously on Kei.

“Of course, we aren’t planning on rushing into anything physical until you’re absolutely comfortable with it. Right, Tetsurou?”

Kuroo’s eyes widen and he shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not!” His voice is muffled by Akaashi’s hand still firmly clasped over his mouth, but Kei understands and the knot of anxiety in his chest loosens just a little bit. Not that he was ever really worried about them being pushy, but he’s still able to breathe a little easier now that their expectations (or lack thereof) for the physical aspect of their relationship is out in the open.

“Anyway,” Bokuto smiles, tugging gently on the sleeve of Kei’s tee shirt, “you just gotta let us in a little and everything will fall into place. It’s hard sometimes, but what relationship isn’t? More than one boyfriend just means we need to communicate a little more, be a little more open about what we all need, and you get three times the support in return.” He gently pulls Kei’s overnight bag from his hand and throws it over his own shoulder. 

Kei purses his lips, eyes darting between Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kuroo. “I...I’m not so good with the communication thing. Or opening up, really,” he admits, guilt starting to coil around his stomach. That’s an understatement if he’s ever heard one, but it’s the only thing he can think to say. He’s left more than one partner fed up and frustrated with his inability to do something simple as talk to them. He’s been called ‘cold’ and ‘distant’ more times than he can count, though Yamaguchi and Yachi insist he’s just careful about who he allows in and that that’s not a bad thing. Those two are the only ones who really know him and have the patience to put up with his emotional ineptitude and that’s only by sheer stubbornness on their parts. Everyone else is kept at a distance, behind the hard line he draws between public and private Kei and he tends to like it that way. 

And despite the fact that Akaashi, Kuroo, and Bokuto have somehow managed to crack through a little of his closed-off facade, the idea of opening up completely is like an icy fist around his heart. He wonders how long it will take for them to realize the mistake they’ve made getting involved with him.

To his amazement, Kuroo is the one that pulls him in for a hug, all traces of the smirk that usually rests on his lips gone. Kei’s body instinctively stiffens at the touch, but Kuroo is gentle and patient and simply wraps his arms around Kei’s waist and holds him close. A moment passes and as soon as Kei relaxes into his touch, resting his chin on Kuroo’s shoulder, Bokuto and Akaashi push their way into the hug. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to the feeling of being completely surrounded by such genuine affection. It should feel suffocating, but instead it just feels right. 

It makes him want to try to be better, to be open, to act like a whole person, a good partner.

“We knew what we were getting into when we confessed, Tsukki,” Kuroo murmurs. His voice is low in Kei’s ear and his breath is warm against his neck and Kei can’t stop the shiver that runs through his body. “There’s absolutely no pressure with us,” he continues, “we go at your pace, okay?”

Kei closes his eyes, allowing Kuroo’s words to sink in fully, reveling in the feeling of Akaashi’s surprisingly strong grip around his waist and Bokuto’s hand rubbing small, gentle circles in the middle of his back. The knot in his chest loosens a bit more, the guilt uncoiling itself from around his gut and he presses his face into the crook of Kuroo’s shoulder until he can properly gain control of his facial expressions.

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, finally pulling back to see three grinning faces looking back at him. “Let’s go.”

Kei wakes up slowly, desperately clinging to the last remnants of sleep before his body decides it’s time to be up for the day. The bed he’s in is warm and, despite the fact that it’s only half as full as when he fell asleep the previous night, his emotional roller coaster of a day leaving him physically and mentally exhausted, he thinks he’d be content to stay in it all day. But then he remembers that he has dinner plans with Yamaguchi and Yachi and as much as he isn’t looking forward to hearing their chorus of I-told-you-so’s when he inevitably has to discuss recent developments, it has been a while since the three of them have had much time together and he really shouldn’t bail on them.

So maybe not _all_ day, but he can probably snag another hour or so before-

A gentle huff of laughter sounds in his ear, cutting off all thoughts of more sleep. He cracks open one eye and peers over to see Kuroo propped up on an elbow, chin resting in his hand, gazing at him. The soft light creeping through the sheer curtains casts a warm glow over his face and Kei marvels at how unfair it is that someone could look so attractive first thing in the morning. Kuroo’s ridiculous hair is even more out of control than it usually is and his lips are curled up in a lazy, sleepy smile as his hazel eyes roam over Kei’s face, but it all works together to paint a picture of warmth and domesticity that has his heart flip-flopping in his chest. Kei decides maybe he doesn’t mind losing a little sleep if this is what he’s got waiting for him in the waking world.

“Were you watching me sleep?” he asks, rolling onto his side so he can face Kuroo more fully. He tries for his usual deadpan tone, but his voice is thick with sleep so it comes out all fuzzy and soft.

Kuroo grins shamelessly. “Yep. Couldn’t help it. You’re too cute.” He punctuates each statement with the lightest brush of his lips over Kei’s skin- his forehead, his nose, and finally the corner of his mouth.

“Creep,” Kei mumbles, turning his face into the pillow to hide the blush he can feel making its way over his cheeks and drown out Kuroo’s laughter. 

“You have no idea,” Kuroo teases, smug grin on his face. He flops back down on his pillow and nudges his face against Kei’s like a cat begging for attention.

Kei peeks out of his pillow and makes an attempt at a glare, but, honestly, he’s too warm and comfortable to try very hard. If Kuroo’s continued laughter is anything to go by, it’s less than effective, anyway. So, he decides to see if he can find a better way to shut his obnoxious boyfriend up.

Kuroo startles for a brief moment when Kei cups Kuroo’s face in his hands and presses his lips against his, but his eyes quickly flutter closed and he hums happily into the kiss, clearly pleased at the turn of events. It’s not nearly as hurried as their first kiss the previous evening, but the way their lips slot together, soft and languid, is no less heated. Kei’s tongue moves against Kuroo’s lower lip, seeking entry and Kuroo obliges with a soft sigh. An arm wraps around Kei’s waist, pulling him flush against Kuroo, and long fingers slip under the fabric of his tee shirt, stroking slow, lazy circles over the sharp cut of his hip. 

He thinks belatedly that he should be embarrassed over how quickly his body responds to a simple makeout session and that he should pull away before he gets too worked up because while he’s really into _this_ he’s not quite sure he’s ready for _that_. Not to mention that he’s unsure where Bokuto and Akaashi are and whether or not this is even okay to do without them. More logistics that they didn’t quite get to talking about last night before they had all fallen into bed, exhausted and snuggly and content.

But then Kuroo rolls his hips gently and takes advantage of the ensuing gasp to slide his tongue against Kei’s and when he feels how similarly affected Kuroo is, all his thoughts, especially those involving embarrassment and self control, go out the window. His fingers brush over cheekbones that could cut glass and card through a mess of black hair before giving a gentle tug, trying to regain some control over the situation. The sound Kuroo makes is something between a groan and a growl that shoots a spike of heat through Kei’s entire body, so he does it again, this time with a little more force.

Kuroo pulls back and looks at him through hooded lids, lips kissed-red and a little swollen and it's all Kei can do not to pull him back down for more when he husks, “God, Tsukki, you have no idea-”

A blaring ringtone sounds, tragically cutting off whatever it was Kuroo was going to say. Kei’s whole body tenses up on instinct, the ringtone immediately recognizable, though it’s been a peaceful few years since he’s heard it. He wants to ignore it, to get back to the headspace he was in mere seconds ago, but he feels like he’s been dunked in a bucket of ice water and it takes all his concentration just to keep his breathing steady and his hands from shaking.

“Do you need to get that?” Kuroo’s eyes are gentle, searching. The shift in mood is obvious and he removes his hand from Kei’s hip, instead lacing their fingers together when it becomes clear that Kei doesn’t know how to respond. His grip on Kuroo’s hand tightens until the ringing mercifully stops and they’re enveloped in silence once again. 

Kei licks his lips, tries to figure out how to dismiss the phone call without outright lying to Kuroo. It’s difficult, especially when his phone chimes, signaling a new voicemail received, and Kei jumps like he’s been shocked. Bokuto’s words from the previous night and Kuroo’s concerned look work together to crack something in his chest and he grimaces, knowing he can’t evade the question in Kuroo’s eyes forever. “Family stuff,” he finally says, relieved when his voice comes out steady. “I don’t...I don’t really want to talk about it. Not yet, anyway.”

Kuroo looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, but Kei’s relieved when he simply nods and unclasps his hand from Kei’s, bringing it up to cup his cheek instead. “Okay,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to Kei’s forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Kei mumbles, closing his eyes and leaning heavily into Kuroo’s touch. 

Kuroo clicks his tongue and Kei looks up to see that teasing grin back on his face. “None of that,” he says, rolling out of the bed and whipping the covers off Kei. “Let’s go get breakfast. Smells like Bo made pancakes and if we leave ‘Kaashi out there long enough there won’t be any left for us.” 

He leans forward, scooping Kei up in his arms bridal-style, ignoring the half-hearted protests that spill from Kei’s lips as he kicks open the bedroom door to announce their entry into the living room. He dumps Kei unceremoniously on the couch amidst a tangle of Bokuto and Akaashi’s limbs before practically skipping into the kitchen to retrieve coffee. His indignant huffs are easily silenced by good morning kisses from first Bokuto and then Akaashi and by the time he's settled in with a cup of coffee, he's pretty sure his new favorite food is the buttery syrup that lingers on his boyfriends’ lips.

The “new voice mail” alert remains on his phone, unchecked and forgotten for the rest of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN REGARDS TO SMUT: I am thinking I'm going to keep this main story rated T (maaaaybe M???) but I plan to make it part of a SERIES! So when we have a fade-to-black or implied sexy times, there is a high probability that I will write the thing and post it as a separate one-shot. That way, even when the main story is over, I can still do spin-offs and one-shots and never really have to leave this version of all these characters. 
> 
> I hope that's agreeable to everyone!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wholesome friendships followed by angst <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This one got away from me but I've been writing every single day and am so pleased to be able to bring it to you in a timely manner!
> 
> Sorry there's not more of our third gym boys in this chapter, but I really wanted to have fun with the friendship between Tsukki, Yamaguchi, and Yachi. 
> 
> Plus I've been mulling over a fun pairing for Yachi for a while that I couldn't pass up. ;)
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos inspire me to keep going, so I'd love to hear what you all think!

Early into their meal, Yamaguchi and Yachi gang up on Kei to pry the events of the previous night out of him. Any thoughts he had been holding on to about being vague or even dismissive of his newfound relationship status, any hopes of keeping it to himself for just a little bit longer are immediately erased when their food comes and the first substantial question out of Yamaguchi’s mouth is, “So how was your date last night?”

And while Kei had initially been apprehensive of the loud, American style bar and grill that Yachi had chosen for them all to meet at, he’s grateful for the dim lighting and the noise when his friends react to his news. That is, with dramatic gasps followed by loud peals of laughter.

“If you two don’t stop laughing right now, I’m walking out.”

“Sorry, Tsukki, it’s just-” the muscles in Yamaguchi’s face work, attempting to settle on an appropriate expression, or at least one that won’t cause Kei to grind his teeth any further.

“It’s just we told you so, dummy!” Yachi crows, clearly unable and unwilling to show the same consideration that Yamaguchi attempts.

Kei glares at them both over his half-empty glass. 

“Well, we did!” Yamaguchi insists. Their voice is earnest, but a teasing smile tugs at the corner of their mouth. “I literally said you were worried for nothing.”

“Tch,” Kei clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t miss the soft expressions behind his friends’ matching smirks. For all their teasing, they are both happy for him and that knowledge alone softens the annoyance that typically bubbles to the surface whenever it’s made clear that he’s sorely lacking in emotional intelligence.

Yachi leans forward, chin in her hand. Her smug expression softens into something warm and fond as she regards him. “You’re really happy, though, right, Kei?” 

Kei thinks back to last night’s fireworks, the way he felt safe and whole curled up in a bed with three other bodies, this morning’s blissful wakeup. He looks down at his plate of onion rings, unable to keep the smile from spreading slowly across his face. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “I really am.”

“Good!” she grins, kicking him gently under the table. “Though I still gotta meet them and make sure they know to keep it that way!” She puts on her best imitation of Kei’s trademark scowl; it’s scarily accurate, though between her tiny frame and massive brown eyes, the look is less than effective and drops into an exaggerated pout when Kei laughs at her.

Yamaguchi leans into Yachi and swipes a french fry from her plate. “Now we just gotta set you up with that cute bartender you’ve been eyeing all night and we can all go on a group date. Wouldn’t that be fun, Tsukki?” They pop the fry in their mouth trying their best to look innocent, but the mischievous glint in their dark eyes gives them away completely.

Kei’s eyebrows nearly shoot up into his hairline as his gaze darts between Yamaguchi, pink-cheeked and smiling happily, and Yachi, who turns to Yamaguchi with a look of utter betrayal, despite still attempting to casually sneak glances at the bartender in question.

“Uh, okay, first of all,” Kei trains his gaze on Yamaguchi, “are you and Kenma…?” he lets the question dangle, but Yamguchi gets the gist of it and nods happily, whipping out their phone and showing off the new lock screen. It’s a selfie from the previous night- Yamaguchi grinning at the camera with Kenma snuggled in close to them, his face turned in close to Yamaguchi’s neck. Kenma’s not looking at the camera, but Kei can see a softness around his eyes and mouth behind the locks of blonde hair that have pulled free from his loose ponytail and it’s honestly the happiest he’s ever seen Kenma look. Behind the couple is a familiar spray of blue and purple fireworks and Kei’s torn between happiness that Yamaguchi was feeling the same giddiness of a new relationship at nearly the same time he was and guilt that he didn’t think to ask about it sooner.

At Kei’s incredulous look, Yamaguchi snorts. “Not all of us pine for almost eight months before making a move, Tsukki.”

Kei struggles to come up with a retort, but he really can’t argue with Yamaguchi on that point. “Alright,” he concedes, “well, I’m glad. Kuroo’s been best friends with Kenma since they were kids. So if Kuroo trusts him, I do too.”

“Tsukki-” Yamaguchi’s eyes sparkle with emotion and Kei waves them off. 

It’s clear Yamaguchi was hoping for Kei’s approval, but Kei doesn’t think there’s much more that needs to be said to get the point across. He’s never been fully trusting of anyone who wants to get close to himself, Yamaguchi, or Yachi, often using his height and the glare that settles onto his face so naturally as a protective barrier. Most of the guys who aren’t really interested in them as people don’t feel it’s worth it to try and break through that barrier, which suits the three of them just fine. 

But he finds himself incapable of dismissing Kenma outright the way he has with nearly all of his best friends’ past partners. And not only because he works with the man- despite Kuroo’s overly friendly nature with nearly everyone he meets, his boyfriend regards Kenma so highly it’s like he’s on another level altogether. And that makes it a lot easier for Kei to trust Kenma, too.

“Now what’s the deal with this bartender?” he asks sternly, turning to Yachi. She rolls her eyes at his sudden shift in tone and downs the rest of her drink.

“Oh, put the protective big brother act away,” she teases, sticking out her tongue when Kei fixes her with A Look. “It’s nothing. I’ve come here for drinks with clients a couple of times. He’s really nice and charming and I just like looking at him, that’s all.”

Kei quirks an eyebrow as he regards the bartender. He’s pouring a drink for the customers in front of him and though he seems entirely focused on the task at hand, he’s wearing an easy smile and is still clearly able to hold up his end of the conversation. His hair has a close-cropped undercut with the longer top portion dyed honey blonde and pulled back into a small knot at the back of his head. Silver flashes all along his ear and Kei can see several piercings lining the cartilage as well as black plugs in his lobes from his vantage point; as he leans forward to hand over a pint glass of beer to his customer, Kei catches a glimpse of a tattoo peeking out from under the edge of his short sleeve and another (or is it the same one?) creeping up from the open collar of his black button-down. 

“He looks like a delinquent,” Kei muses, turning back to Yachi and pursing his lips.

“You look like a delinquent,” Yachi shoots back, staring pointedly at his lip ring and the black studs in his own earlobes with a crooked grin.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t want you dating me either,” he sulks.

Yachi wrinkles her nose at him and clicks her tongue the way Kei so often does when he’s dismissing the conversation. The sound is jarring coming from her. “I can take care of myself, Kei. Besides, there’s nothing to worry about.” she says. “Like I said, I just like looking at him.”

“Looks like he feels the same,” Yamaguchi cuts in before Kei can continue their bickering. “He’s been eyeballing you every time you turn back around, ‘Toka.”

Yachi’s cheeks go pink, but Kei doesn’t miss the small, pleased smile that tugs at her lips and he feels himself relenting. She's never exactly been known for her great taste in guys, but as much as he hates to admit it, he can't protect her forever. He knows she’s going to do what she wants anyway, so he may as well be supportive enough to be kept in the loop. And when it inevitably all goes to shit, he and Yama will be there with ice cream and Disney movies until she bounces back. 

He puffs out an irritated breath and pulls a few bills out of his wallet, shoving them towards Yachi. “Just...go get us some drinks. Get his phone number or give him yours or something.” At her dumbfounded look, he rolls his eyes. “Like Yama said, we don’t all three have to pine for months before making a move.”

Yachi grins and takes the bills from Kei with a quick peck on the cheek before standing, smoothing a hand through her blonde hair, and turning towards the bar. Kei watches her for a moment, but turns away as she leans casually against the bar, clearly on a mission. She quickly catches the eye of the bartender who flashes her a wide smile and rushes to finish with his current customers before approaching her. 

If Kei wasn’t so apprehensive, he’d almost feel bad for the guy- he's really got no idea what he's getting into.

Yamaguchi quietly finishes their drink before leaning back and regarding Kei carefully, a knowing smile playing on their lips. “If I didn’t know better I’d say those boys have made you soft.”

Kei grimaces and looks away, refusing to acknowledge the statement, though from the self-satisfied hum they let out, that seems to be all the response Yamaguchi needs to know they’ve read him like a book.

Kei spends the next few days screening every call that comes through his phone. Despite watching the numbers like a hawk- and the fact that the majority of people who want to get ahold of him are in one group text or another- he’s still got a constant knot of anxiety in his chest. He can’t help but think that somehow the wrong number will slip through and he will be forced into a confrontation he’s in no way ready for.

Instead, he finds solace in the near-constant buzzing of his phone. If possible, the group chat with his boyfriends has become even more active over the few days they’ve been dating than ever before. And Kei would be lying if he said his heart didn’t do a little flip any time one of their photos pops up on his screen, even if it’s just a stupid pun or a rant about Oikawa. He would feel bad about constantly checking his phone at work if he didn’t see Kenma doing the same thing, clearly just as wrapped up with Yamaguchi as Kei is with Bo, Akaashi, and Kuroo. 

On Wednesday afternoon, Kei’s eyes are just starting to glaze over while wrapping up his last few emails when his phone buzzes several times in quick succession. The sound, along with the sudden realization that Kenma has, at some point, snuck out at least a little bit early, snaps him quickly out of his brain fog.

**YamaJama [4:27 pm]**   
_SOS_

**YamaJama [4:27 pm]**   
_Emergency_

**YamaJama [4:27 pm]**   
_Guyyyyyssss_

**YamaJama [4:28 pm]**   
_HALP_

**Kei [4:28 pm]**   
_Holy shit, what?_

**YachiMama [4:28 pm]**   
_What’s wrong???_

**YamaJama [4:28 pm]**   
_Date tonight_

**YachiMama [4:29 pm]**   
_On a Wednesday?_

**Kei [4:29 pm]**   
_You mean with your boyfriend?_

**Kei [4:29 pm]**   
_Why is this an emergency?_

**YamaJama [4:29 pm]**   
_It’s like a real date_

**YamaJama [4:29 pm]**   
_Dinner at a real restaurant and stuff. Not a festival or like...ramen shop_

**YachiMama [4:30 pm]**   
_On a Wednesday?_

**YamaJama [4:30 pm]**   
_Yes! He’s out of town this weekend so we’re going out tonight._

**Kei [4:30 pm]**   
_Still failing to see the emergency._

**YamaJama [4:30 pm]**   
_Well I had my outfit planned out. Those gray skinny jeans and that purple button down_

**YachiMama [4:30 pm]**   
_Ooh, the ones that make your butt look amazing?_

**YachiMama [4:30 pm]**   
_Nice choice!_

**YamaJama [4:32 pm]**   
_I tried...I put them on_

**YamaJama [4:32 pm]**   
_And everything felt wrong_

**YamaJama [4:32 pm]**   
_Itchy_

**YamaJama [4:32 pm]**   
_10 kinds of uncomfortable_

**Kei [4:32 pm]**   
_Ah._

**Kei [4:32 pm]**   
_So, pick something else?_

**YamaJama [4:34 pm]**   
_The only thing that feels right is a skirt._

**YachiMama [4:34 pm]**   
_That’s okay! You have lots of cute ones._

**YachiMama [4:34 pm]**   
_The yellow maxi?_

**YamaJama [4:34 pm]**   
_That’s what I was thinking_

**YamaJama [4:35 pm]**   
_But Kenma is really…reserved? Quiet?_

**YamaJama [4:35 pm]**   
_I don’t think he’s ever seen me in a skirt?_

**Kei [4:35 pm]**   
_I honestly don’t think he’d care._

**YachiMama [4:35 pm]**   
_And if he does, you know he’s not the right guy for you_

**YamaJama [4:36 pm]**   
_Yeah but I want him to be._

**YamaJama [4:36 pm]**   
_But he hates attention and stuff_

**YamaJama [4:36 pm]**   
_And when I wear shit like that...it tends to draw attention_

**YamaJama [4:36 pm]**   
_I don’t want him to be embarrassed_

**Kei [4:36 pm]**   
_You draw attention because you look good in a skirt._

**Kei [4:36 pm]**   
_Confident. People either like that or envy it._

**Kei [4:37 pm]**   
_If Kenma cares about you, he’d want you to be comfortable on your date._

**YachiMama [4:37 pm]**   
_Aw, look at Kei being all insightful and stuff_

**YachiMama [4:37 pm]**   
_Those boys have really done a number on you!_

**Kei [4:37 pm]**   
_Shut up, Yachi._

**YachiMama [4:37 pm]**   
_He’s right, though, Yams. _

**Kei [4:38 pm]**   
_Obviously._

**YachiMama [4:38 pm]**   
_Shut up, Tsukishima. >.<_

**YachiMama [4:38 pm]**   
_Anyway, from what you've told me about him...Kenma doesn't seem the type to care what the average person thinks._

**YamaJama [4:40 pm]**   
_Ok, ok, I’m wearing the skirt._   
_[image sent]_

**Kei [4:40 pm]**   
_Looks great_

**YachiMama [4:40 pm]**   
_HOT!_

**YamaJama [4:40 pm]**   
_Okay, thank you friends. I’m good now._

**YachiMama [4:40 pm]**   
_Let us know how it goes!_

**YachiMama [4:40 pm]**   
_Unless you’re too ~busy~ to text_

**YachiMama [4:40 pm]**   
_;)_

Kei rolls his eyes as he closes out of the group chat, though not before sparing one last glance at the mirror selfie Yamaguchi sent them. They really do look great, practically radiating confidence, in a bright yellow floor length skirt made out of some kind of flowy, sheer material with a shorter, tighter, black skirt underneath. On top is a simple black button-down with the sleeves rolled up slightly and the buttons loose at the collar. Kei can’t see all the way to their feet, but he’s fairly confident they’ll be sporting their favorite pair of motorcycle boots. Yamaguchi’s hair falls in loose, shiny waves past their shoulders and Kei takes a small amount of pride in knowing that it’s thanks to his braiding expertise that it falls so nicely.

He may be biased, but he thinks Kenma would be crazy to let Yamaguchi slip through his fingers over something as inconsequential as an outfit. 

Kei finally leaves the office, prepared for the quiet walk back to his apartment. To be honest, he hasn’t had that much alone time recently- not that he’s necessarily wanted it- and it strikes him how solitary he’s been for so long. Yachi and Yamaguchi have always been there, always pushed him a little out of his comfort zone when he needed it, but they’re nothing compared to the force that is Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi. It’s strange how he used to cling desperately to alone time, going so far as to duck into empty classrooms or rooftops to eat his lunches. But now, even though the four of them haven’t even officially been dating for a full week, his boyfriends are so ingrained into his daily life that he feels a little empty without them there. 

Yachi’s right- those boys really are doing a number on him. He can’t remember ever being such a sap before them.

He starts around the corner, ready to plug his headphones into his phone and pull up the playlist that he’s been curating since the day he and Akaashi discovered they had similar musical tastes. In his hand, the phone rings and before he can even think about it, his thumb acts on muscle memory and swipes to answer the call. His breath catches when he sees the contact name appear in big, bold letters on the screen but it’s too late. 

"...Kei?" He's taken too long to answer and Akiteru's voice on the other end of the call sounds soft and hesitant in a way he wasn't expecting.

"Aki-nii…" the nickname slips out before he can stop it and he has to restrain himself from ending the call immediately, especially when he hears his brother let out a small chuckle.

"It's been a while," Akiteru says. Kei struggles with a response as his mind works to pull apart the tone of his brother's voice. Is it apologetic? Affectionate? Sad? He can't tell, so he just stays quiet, bites down the sarcastic remarks dancing on the tip of his tongue. 

When it becomes clear Kei isn't going to respond, Akiteru sighs heavily and continues. "Dad's been calling."

"Tch," Kei clicks his tongue, drawing another sigh from Akiteru, this one more irritated than resigned. Kei grips the strap of his bag until his knuckles turn white and says nothing, focusing on putting one foot ahead of the other in the middle of the evening rush. 

He won't hang up, not yet, but he won't make this easy on Akiteru either.

"He'd really like to speak with you," Akiteru tries again.

Kei’s head is starting to hurt and his chest feels tight. He really wants to find somewhere to sit down, catch his breath, but his feet keep moving of their own accord, carrying him along with the flow of people going home to their families at the end of a long work day. 

“Kei?”

“No.”

“You can’t just-”

Akiteru’s tone is stern, and it strikes Kei suddenly how much like their father, or at least Kei’s memories of their father, Akiteru sounds. He cuts his brother off before he has a chance to wear him down. “Akiteru. I have nothing to say to him and I can’t imagine I want to hear what he has to say to me.” He’s proud of how strong his voice comes out, especially considering how badly his hands are shaking. 

“Can you at least let him speak to you?” Akiteru asks. His voice sounds further away and a little tinny, prompting suspicion on Kei’s part.

“Is he there with you?” Kei asks suddenly and when Akiteru doesn’t answer, he has to once again resist the urge to hang up the phone. His chest is so tight and he can’t seem to suck in enough air. “Is he there? Am I on speaker, Aki?” His voice rises in pitch and breaks, causing a few of the surrounding people to turn and look at him curiously. He shoves his way past them until he finds a building he can lean against because he’s honestly not sure how much longer his legs will support him. 

Akiteru hums a quiet affirmation and there’s a little rustling and then another voice comes through his speaker, right in his ear, and it’s like he’s back in high school again. “Hello, son. You’re a difficult one to get ahold of.”

Goosebumps erupt all over Kei’s arms and neck and he’s sweating and _oh god_ when did it become so difficult to breathe? If the sound of his father’s ringtone brought him to the edge of a panic attack before, it’s nothing in comparison to the way he feels when that voice sounds in his ear.

“You don’t need to call me that,” he manages, all too aware of how small and pathetic his own voice sounds. He wants to scream and cry and throw up all at the same time.

“Kei, we need to speak,” his father’s voice sounds tired, but just as harsh as ever to Kei’s ears. “Have you listened to any of my messages? Or were you just too busy with those friends of yours to respond?”

“No, sir,” he mumbles, an automatic response that causes him to flinch despite the bright flare of anger in his chest at his father’s indirect mention of Yamaguchi. “I don’t want to speak with you.”

“You’re being petulant.” His father sounds angry and Kei has to remind himself that he’s hundreds of miles away in Miyagi. There’s a reason he left for Tokyo when he did.

“According to you, that’s the least of my problems. I can’t imagine you thought that would change.” 

“You’re right, that is the least of your problems. And now you’re just being disresp-” the anger is starting to spill over in his father’s voice, but more rustling cuts it off. Kei hears the soft click of a door and then Akiteru is speaking to him again.

“Listen-”

“No, Akiteru,” he spits. He hates that he is still, after so many years, physically incapable of speaking freely to his father and he knows that Akiteru doesn’t necessarily deserve it, but damn if it doesn’t feel good to just finally let it out. “Just fuck off, okay? We all made our choices. If you want to talk, fine. But if you’re going to try and manipulate me just because he-”

“He’s in the hospital, Kei.”

Kei isn’t sure what Akiteru expects him to say to that; he doesn’t even know how he feels about it to be honest. The anger still burns in his chest and he doesn’t feel sad, but the fact that he doesn’t feel sad only serves to make him feel guilty and the fact that he feels guilty at all just makes him angry because he’s also fully aware that he doesn’t owe _that man_ a fucking thing. 

Akiteru is still speaking, but Kei can’t get a grasp on his words. It all sounds fuzzy and grainy, like a car radio trying desperately to hold on to a station that’s just out of range. He closes his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of his brother’s voice, rattling off the details mechanically as though he’s done it a dozen times. And he probably has- he’s their father’s second-in-command, after all, so the responsibility for handling business would fall on him while the senior Tsukishima is laid up.

“-in Tokyo.”

Kei’s eyes snap open and he really, truly feels like he may throw up this time.

“You’re in Tokyo? Now?”

“Yes. It may be a while before he’s released and I’ll stay as long as I can but...it would be good of you to come visit.”

“I...I can’t talk about that right now. I have to go.”

“Kei, wait-” 

Akiteru’s voice is cut off as Kei swipes his thumb over the phone to end the call. He stares blankly at the photo of himself, Yachi, and Yamaguchi that serves as his wallpaper until it fades to black, until he feels like he can breathe and move and finally walk without collapsing. He’s still all too aware of the sound of his heart thundering in his ears and the pressure behind his eyes and the churning of his stomach, but he also knows if he doesn’t get up and move now, he doesn’t know when he’ll be able to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to end on such a bleak note, but I promise it will be worth the hurt. <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Akaashi is too good for this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> So I know I mentioned a more regular updating schedule last time, but life has thrown some unexpected curveballs at me and I need to take a step back from everything I have on my plate at the moment. Unfortunately that means a temporary hiatus from my sweet 3rd gym boys and this fic. 
> 
> I hope you can be patient with me because I will be back. I refuse to abandon this piece or you all, but there just might be more extended periods of time between updates.
> 
> I promise to make them worth your while and I hope you understand and forgive me. A hiatus is the last thing I wanted, but life has spiraled out of my control, so I need to take some time.
> 
> Feel free to scream at me on discord: Leanna (she/her)👺#1298 or on Tumblr: leannerd1013

He arrives at his destination completely by accident. Well, maybe not completely by accident, but he definitely doesn’t remember making a conscious decision to show up unannounced at his boyfriends’ place. He knocks anyway, a small part of him hoping nobody answers, leaving him free to turn around and go home and burrito himself in his blankets until Yamaguchi comes back. But the other, bigger, part of him really just needs the comfort that always settles over him when he’s at their place. 

So it’s a relief when Akaashi answers the door, his expression first one of shock, quickly settling into something soft and concerned. Kei realizes what a haggard mess he must seem, hair a tangle of blonde curls, face flushed, chest heaving in an attempt to fill his lungs with air. He’s almost too exhausted to be embarrassed about it.

Almost.

Without a word, Akaashi closes a hand around Kei’s wrist and pulls him inside, leading him towards his favorite oversized loveseat. Kei hears the door swing softly closed behind them and within a matter of seconds, Akaashi’s arms are around him and the relief he feels in that moment causes something to crack in his chest and the dam breaks. Ugly sobs wrack his body and he’s embarrassed, disgusted really, by the noises ripping free from his throat and the fact that the shoulder of Akaashi’s soft gray tee shirt is now soaked but he can’t stop and he doesn’t have the strength to even attempt to extricate himself from Akaashi’s grip. 

Akaashi’s hands stroke slow, deliberate circles over his back as he murmurs barely intelligible words of comfort in Kei’s ear. Kei can barely make out any of what he’s saying, but just the sound of his voice, the feeling of being wrapped in his embrace works to ground him. It isn’t long before he’s all dried up, though the pounding of his head and his sore throat make it feel like he’s been crying for hours. His sobs ease into sniffles and the occasional hiccup and he slowly unclenches his hands from where they’re fisted in the front of Akaashi’s shirt, holding him close. 

“Fuck,” he says, pulling away. The shame that always follows a breakdown like this- especially one in front of another person- starts to bubble under the surface of his skin, making him feel hot and itchy. “God, sorry,” he mumbles, taking his smeared, fogged-up glasses from his face and swiping a hand over his eyes. 

Akaashi clicks his tongue, brushing aside Kei’s apologies before smoothing a hand through a mess of rumpled blonde hair and leaning in to place a soft kiss on his temple. His sharp eyes are filled with questions as he gazes at Kei, but he remains quiet, thinking. 

“Do you want some tea?” he finally asks. “I was just getting ready to make some.”

Kei nods and Akaashi gives his hand a quick squeeze before moving towards the kitchen. Kei’s body mourns the sudden absence, but he’s grateful for the chance to collect himself before he inevitably has to answer Akaashi’s questions.

He sneaks to the bathroom while Akaashi busies himself at the stove, grimacing when he catches his reflection in the mirror. His curls are even more unruly than they normally are, his eyes a bloodshot mess, and his pale skin is blotchy and red. Another wave of shame threatens to overtake him and Kei’s unsure if it comes from the display he just put on for Akaashi or the fact that he’s let his father get under his skin this much after just a couple of minutes on the phone. 

He hasn’t even gone to see the bastard, has had five blissful years of separation from him, enough to effectively tuck his trauma away in a box in the back of his mind, and today’s phone call was enough to wreck him completely.

_How pathetic._

By the time Kei has himself pulled together enough to duck back into the living room, Akaashi is already set up with a tray of tea and some of Kei’s favorite lemon cookies laid out on the oversized coffee table. He’s tucked into the corner of the couch and has traded his gray tee shirt for an oversized blue sweatshirt that Kei’s pretty sure is Bokuto’s from the way it bunches at his wrists and gapes at the neck, exposing the dip of his clavicle. He smiles softly at Kei and gestures for him to come snuggle into his arms, and Kei gladly obliges. 

This is better, he thinks. He’s grateful for Akaashi’s strong hold and steadying hand when he totally lost his shit earlier, but he much prefers being able to just melt against the other man, legs tangled together, head resting against the crook of Akaashi’s shoulder so generously exposed by the sweatshirt he’s wearing. Despite a nearly five inch height difference, Akaashi holds Kei like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He aimlessly cards a hand through Kei’s hair, not speaking except to offer him a cookie. Kei isn’t quite ready to offer up any explanations, but he knows Akaashi will wait as long as he needs to.

“Kuroo and Bokuto won’t be back until late,” he finally says, leaning over to place their cups carefully on the table. “I don’t know if you saw their messages about dinner…” he trails off and Kei hums an affirmation, though the memory of that morning’s discussion about Bokuto’s sales dinner has dimmed considerably. “But...if you want them here-”

“No,” Kei tips his head back to look at Akaashi, heart clenching at the sight of his lips turned down in a concerned frown. He threads his fingers through Akaashi’s and presses a light kiss to the hollow of his throat. “I’m fine. I’m good.” 

Kei feels rather than sees the incredulous quirk of Akaashi’s eyebrow, the disbelieving clench of his jaw, but still Akaashi waits.

“I mean. I’m not _fine_ obviously,” he turns his head away from Akaashi, tucks it back into its home in the crook of his neck. It’s easier to talk this way, not looking at him but with skin to skin contact that grounds him, makes him feel safe. “But I’m better now.”

“I’m sorry, Kei,” Akaashi rests a cheek on the top of Kei’s head and a little more of the tension melts out of Kei’s body. “You really don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I won’t-”

“I want to,” Kei interrupts, surprising even himself with the force behind the words and the discovery that they are actually true. “I mean,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “if you want to know.”

Kei feels Akaashi’s lips quirk up into a small smile and he huffs out a gentle laugh. “You can tell me anything, dummy.”

He closes his eyes and presses his face closer to Akaashi’s neck, inhales his scent; Akaashi’s soap and a little hint of Bokuto from the sweatshirt he’s wearing and Kuroo’s cologne is mixed in there too, likely from the way he had hugged Akaashi close before they left for their dinner that night. It’s warm and comfortable and the most like home he’s ever felt that it doesn’t entirely shock him when he feels the pinpricks of tears forming behind his eyes.

“It’s...my dad,” he finally says. “He’s in the hospital. Heart attack.”

“Oh,” Akaashi’s voice is careful. “Is it serious?”

“Ah, no. I mean, it didn’t sound like it. I’m not sure...everything was kind of…” he gestures vaguely, but Akaashi seems to understand the sentiment.

“Are you...not close?”

Kei chuckles, the sound harsher and more bitter than he anticipates. “There’s just...a lot there,” he sighs and with another brush of Akaashi’s thumb over his knuckles, he is ready to allow the words to spill over. “He left my mom when I was very young. Akiteru--my older brother--went with him. I think he tried to get me to come with him too, but I was so young. I just wanted my mom, you know?” Akaashi hums and squeezes his hand, an encouragement to keep going. “She got sick when I was in middle school, so he came back to Miyagi to help,” his throat closes at the memories that flood his vision- hospital stays, IV drips, his mother in so much pain towards the end she didn't even recognize him half the time. He can’t go there, not now, so he brushes past it. “When she died, he stayed. He wanted me to finish out at the same high school and I was only midway through my first year. He was rough while she was alive, but after she was gone it got worse.”

Kei feels Akaashi’s entire body go rigid at the last statement. He glances up and inhales sharply at the dark look that is cast over his boyfriend’s face. HIs eyes are narrowed, lips set in a thin line- Kei almost doesn’t recognize him for a moment. “Did he hit you?” Akaashi asks.

“No, oh, Keiji, no nothing like that.” Kei reaches a hand up to Akaashi’s face, cupping his cheek gently and smoothing a thumb over his lips until they relax. “He never laid a hand on me- not worth the risk to him, I think. He was just,” he swallows, the words sounding pathetic to his ears even before he says them, “really mean. To Yamaguchi, to me, even to Yachi when he realized she wasn’t ever going to be my girlfriend.” He scrubs a hand across his cheeks, unclear as to when he started crying again, but not really all that surprised. “Sorry, it sounds so stupid when I say it like that…”

Akaashi moves suddenly, shifting Kei up and sitting up himself, tucking his legs underneath him. He gently turns Kei so the two are sitting face to face and it’s a lot harder to talk this way, so he remains quiet. Akaashi’s hands cup his cheeks gently, forcing him to hold his gaze, gunmetal blue eyes practically boring holes into Kei’s. “It’s not stupid,” he says firmly, voice steady but thick with emotion. “Your pain,” he leans in, pressing his forehead to Kei’s, “is not stupid. It’s valid and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Especially not with me. With us.” 

With that, Akaashi closes the short gap between their lips, his movements soft and patient, waiting for Kei to relax back into him. Akaashi’s hands move over Kei’s face, the pads of his fingers barely brushing over his cheekbones, his jawline, the shell of his ear as though trying to memorize every dip and angle by touch alone.

Akaashi’s touch is tentative and cautious, but Kei feels the anxiety and negative energy being pulled from his body with every movement and he chases that feeling. He returns Akaashi’s kisses, hungry and demanding and a little messy, pressing himself as close to his boyfriend until they tumble back against the armrest. His mind blanks everything out but the pressure of Akaashi’s body under him, the feeling of his lips and tongue against Kei’s, and the warmth of his skin under Kei’s palm as he slips a hand under that too-big sweater. Akaashi is pliant under him, twisting his fingers into Kei’s collar and humming small contented noises that Kei can feel under his hands.

They’re both gasping for air when Kei finally, reluctantly, pulls away. His lips don’t stray far, though, as he mouths along Akaashi’s jawline and down his neck, pausing to nip the skin between his teeth occasionally, hard enough to draw a startled gasp from Akaashi, but not so hard that he’ll leave a mark. 

It isn’t until Kei rolls his hips against Akaashi’s that the shorter man seems to come back to himself, releasing Kei’s collar and pushing gently against his shoulders.

“Ah- Kei,” Akaashi husks in a throaty voice.

“Hmm,” Kei murmurs, pressing his lips to the hollow of Akaashi’s throat, flicking his tongue out for another taste of his warm skin.

“Kei,” Akaashi says again, a little firmer this time, and Kei pulls back to look at him. “I don’t-”

The haze of lust clears slowly when he sees the conflicted expression on Akaashi’s face. His lips are swollen, the flush sits high on his cheeks, and his shirt is rumpled and riding up from Kei’s insistent pushing. But Kei can tell he’s struggling to control himself and that concerned look in his eyes makes him draw back completely, sitting on his knees and knotting his fingers together to keep them to himself while he waits for Akaashi to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi breaks the silence. His tone is soft, as though Kei is a skittish cat he’s trying to keep from running away or attacking. “I just don’t think-”

“No,” Kei interrupts. His skin is still on fire, but now it’s embarrassment that has him burning up, not lust. He runs a hand through unruly blonde curls and grimaces. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I just...shit, I should head home,” he moves to get up, but Akaashi catches him by the wrist, tugging him back down to the couch.

“Please don’t,” Akaashi’s eyes are sincere, pleading. “I just don’t want you to do anything you might regret later on. Maybe I’m being selfish, but if you’re with me,” he grips both of Kei’s hands in his own, threading their fingers together again, “I want it to be because you want me, not because you want to forget.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Kei’s mouth. 

“You’re not selfish,” Kei sighs. “I’m just stupid. I’m sorry- I told you I wasn’t good with this kind of stuff,” 

“It’s alright. This is a lot, all at once. We’ll get there.”

When Akaashi smiles up at him, Kei almost believes what he says. 

“Will you stay over tonight?”

“I don’t have any clothes,” Kei points out.

“You can wear something of Kuroo’s.”

“What about work-”

Akaashi waves a hand. “You and I both deserve a mental health day. I’ll talk to Suga and Kuroo can send Kenma a message tonight.”

Kei finally nods, too tired to argue or think up any other excuse. And to be honest, he doesn’t particularly want to be alone tonight and _really_ doesn’t want to bring Yamaguchi down after their date with Kenma by telling them about his conversation with Akiteru. He can wait to tell them tomorrow. A mental health day is probably a good idea, too, as much as it pains him to call in. His entire body is achey and lethargic and he’s sure he’d be all but useless tomorrow anyway.

“Good,” Akaashi smiles, leaning in and brushing his lips against Kei’s forehead. “Let me run you a bath and order us some dinner. I’m starved and I’m sure you need to eat.” Kei opens his mouth to argue, but Akaashi presses a finger against Kei’s lips with a stern look. “No arguments.”

“No arguments,” Kei agrees, and Akaashi nods, satisfied, before getting up to start running Kei’s bath. Kei catches his wrist before he can get too far and tugs him back down for a chaste kiss, exercising all his self control. “Thank you,” he murmurs against his boyfriend’s lips, and releases his loose grip on his wrist.

Akaashi doesn’t reply, but the fond smile on his face as he bumps their foreheads together is response enough for Kei. He pulls out his phone, sending Yamaguchi a quick message to let them know he won’t be home that night, then shuts the device off. He won’t risk speaking to his father or his brother again until it’s completely on his own terms and that certainly won’t be tonight.

He’ll think about everything in the morning; for tonight he’ll allow himself to be cared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear all of our boys will be back together in the next section...this portion kinda got out of hand, but it felt necessary. <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which not a LOT happens, but it is s o f t. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello, I am alive and (kinda) well! I hope you're all doing as well as can be expected during these bonkers times and are keeping safe and healthy! <3
> 
> I apologize for the long hiatus and I hope this chapter is up to par from what you have come to expect from me. I don't know that I'll be able to commit to as regular a posting schedule as before, but all I can do is promise to try my best for all of you. I've been working from home and keeping my kiddo out of school has presented all kinds of challenges, but we're working through it as best we can. We consider ourselves very fortunate given all the circumstances, though it's one thing to say that and another for my anxiety and depression to, y'know, listen. <3
> 
> Thank you for reading and for not giving up on me! Sending you all socially distant love!

When Kei turns his phone on in the morning after a deep and, thankfully, dreamless sleep, he’s barraged with a series of text messages; he quickly mutes the device before the buzzing can wake Akaashi who is somehow both cocooned in the comforter and also tucked snugly into Kei’s side. Kuroo and Bokuto are nowhere to be found, though that’s not completely surprising. Kei was already in bed, physically and mentally exhausted, when they came home the previous night, though he has a vague recollection of Akaashi speaking to them in hushed tones, loosely explaining what had happened. 

He had kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep, not wanting to discuss it any further, though his heart hurt when he heard Kuroo’s dark tone come out when Akaashi spoke of his father and the disappointment in Bokuto’s voice as he went through his schedule for the next day, realizing he had meetings that he wouldn’t be able to reschedule.

His group chat with Yachi and Yamaguchi has blown up and he skims through them but can’t bring himself to reply yet. He promises himself he will call them both later in the day, at the very least to let them know that he’s fine and not on the verge of another breakdown. Akiteru has sent him several messages asking him to meet up, to call him, to just respond. Kei’s gut churns as his thumbs hover over the keyboard before he finally just decides to leave his brother on read and backs out of the messages completely. He knows it may be cowardly, but he’s just not ready for that conversation yet. Especially not this early in the morning.

He only responds to one message and that’s Kenma’s. True to his word, Kuroo has spoken with Kei’s supervisor and let him know that he isn’t feeling well enough to come in and, as expected, Kenma is more than accommodating. Though, from his message, Kei has the feeling that either Kuroo or Yamaguchi have briefed him on the entire situation.

**Kozume Kenma [7:58 am]**   
_Good morning, Tsukishima. Feel free to take tomorrow off as well. Or if you feel well enough, you are welcome to work from home. Let me know and I can send any necessary items home with Kuro._

Kei knows he should feel embarrassed that he not only had his boyfriend call him in sick but that his supervisor clearly knows he’s staying at their apartment, but he’s surprised by how right and easy it feels to allow them that amount of control. He smiles as he taps out a quick response, thanking Kenma and assuring him he would be happy to work from home. He’s got everything but a few paper files he needs, so he asks Kenma to give those to Kuroo so he can finish them up tomorrow.

He slips out of bed, quietly as possible, and pads to the bathroom to pee and splash some water on his face before moving into the kitchen to seek out caffeine. He figures Akaashi won’t be long behind him and the least he can do is make sure his boyfriend has a cup of coffee waiting for him.

It seems, though, that he’s been beaten to the punch. Because what he thought was the lingering scent of the coffee Bokuto and Kuroo made for themselves turns out to be a full pot set to “warm.” Kei’s mug, a hideous dinosaur-shaped thing with a protruding T-Rex face and the tail acting as the handle (he adores it, though he’ll never admit that to Kuroo), is set out next to Akaashi’s much simpler, much subtler white ceramic owl-shaped mug. And as he turns to the refrigerator to grab Akaashi’s favorite hazelnut creamer, he sees the note in Bokuto’s familiar scrawl pinned there with a little heart shaped magnet.

_The blue container is breakfast. The red one is lunch._   
_Microwave for a couple minutes each._   
_See you tonight, text us if you’re up to it._   
_xoxo_

He traces a finger over the x’s and o’s on the note, a sappy little smile playing on his face. He’s still not sure how somebody like him managed to capture the attention of not just one, but three incredible men but he’s never been more grateful for it than he is now. Standing barefoot in the quiet kitchen wearing too-short sweatpants and a too-big tee shirt that smell of Kuroo and Bokuto, with the sounds of Akaashi waking grumpily and shuffling around in the next room, he’s never felt more at peace. 

A warmth settles in his stomach, blooming in the place where he is used to his anxiety resting and he wonders, briefly and sleepily, if this is what it feels like to fall in love. He brushes the thought aside almost as quickly as it comes- they haven’t even been officially dating that long, it’s way too soon to start talking like that- and sets about making his and Akaashi’s coffee.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto’s voice comes crashing through the apartment and starts Kei out of an almost-nap. He’s dozed off, head in Akaashi’s lap, with his phone clutched loosely in his hand after spending a large portion of the afternoon alternating between reading a book he’s unable to focus on and opening and closing his last conversation with Akiteru. 

He’s given in to his cowardice and skipped the phone call to Yamaguchi and Yachi, instead relaying the bare bones of the conversation in a series of texts, assuring them that he’s fine and if Akiteru tries to contact them (Kei’s certain he will if he doesn’t respond to his texts soon) they should just send him straight to voicemail. They’ve spent enough time during their middle- and high school years wrapped up in his family’s drama, they don’t need it now.

He and Akaashi have had a lazy day, spending the majority of it snuggled on the couch watching trash TV, slipping in and out of several mini naps, and sending selfies to the group chat that are met with a string of emojis that Kei is barely able to interpret but still cause his ears to go a little pink. Akaashi hasn’t asked about anything in regards to Kei’s father or brother and Kei doesn’t offer anything up. Kei’s grateful for the break from thinking about the previous night, especially after navigating through that conversation with Yamaguchi and Yachi. Not to mention, he vastly prefers watching Akaashi sketch, looking overwhelmingly soft and cute with a smudge of graphite along his temple and the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration. 

Akaashi sets down his sketchpad on the arm of the couch and accepts a kiss from Bokuto and squeezes Kuroo’s hand as the other man lifts Kei’s legs to slide himself underneath them. Kei makes a half-hearted attempt to sit up and make room, but Akaashi places a gentle arm over his chest and Kuroo places one across his thighs and he relaxes into the touch as if on instinct. 

Bokuto settles himself on the floor at Akaashi’s feet and leans in to place a soft kiss on the corner of Kei’s mouth, leaning back to inspect Kei’s face before he can turn his head to capture his lips more fully. Bokuto chuckles at the glare, half-hearted as it is, that settles across Kei’s face. 

“How are you?”

Kei is very aware of Akaashi’s fingers carding tenderly through his hair, of the press of Kuroo’s thighs under his own. But it’s Bokuto’s eyes that capture Kei’s full attention; they’re large and golden and soft and filled with something that toes the line between extreme fondness and something stronger. Kei doesn’t say anything, but keeps his face fixed in a slight pout and makes it clear that there will be no chit-chat until he gets more than a teasing brush of Bokuto’s lips. It doesn’t take long for Bokuto to relent and lean in for a more satisfactory kiss.

“Better now.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Tsukki,” Bokuto chuckles, keeping his forehead pressed against Kei’s. His laughter only grows louder when Kuroo makes a sound like a whip cracking.

“You’re one to talk, Tets.” Kei can hear the smile behind Akaashi’s typically-deadpan tone.

“Uh, hello pot, nice to meet you. I’m kettle,” Kuroo sniffs, drawing a quiet huff of laughter from Akaashi.

“Yes, yes, we know, Tsukki’s got us all wrapped around his little finger,” Bokuto chuckles fondly and Kei can’t do anything but bury his face in his hands to hide his growing blush.

“Anyway…,” Kei says, desperate to change the subject, “you didn’t happen to bring back food, did you?”

“Sorta,” Bokuto hums, undoing the top button of his shirt. “I brought home groceries. Thought I’d cook tonight instead of takeout.” 

“Need any help?” Akaashi offers, his small smile widening a fraction when Kuroo snorts out a laugh. 

“You only offer because you know he’ll say no!”

“At least I offer,” Akaashi huffs out, reaching over to tweak Kuroo’s nose. Kuroo chuckles and catches Akaashi’s hand, pressing a series of soft kisses across his knuckles. Something warm settles over Kei when he sees the way Akaashi’s pale cheeks still pink at Kuroo’s gentle show of affection.

“I’ll help you,” Kei decides, slipping out from under Kuroo and Akaashi’s grasp. This time they don’t protest too much and when they scoot closer to each other on the couch and Kuroo leans into Akaashi’s space to look at what he had been sketching, Kei thinks it’s a good idea to give them some time together.

“Oh, no, Tsukki, you don’t-” Bokuto protests, but Kei simply reaches a hand out to his boyfriend to help him to his feet.

“I want to,” he says simply. “Go change out of your work clothes and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“You don’t want to come with me?” Bokuto waggles his eyebrows in a manner eerily reminiscent of Kuroo and, for a brief moment, he considers.

“I’m hungry,” he finally says, disentangling their fingers and patting Bokuto’s cheek fondly. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” 

He turns away, a smile playing across his lips as he’s followed by Bokuto’s whine of “Tsukiiii,” and Kuroo’s wild cackle.

It turns out that he’s less help than he anticipated, really nothing but a glorified sous chef. All Bokuto really asks him to do is start the rice cooker and slice up some onion and at first Kei feels like he’s not pulling his weight in the kitchen. But he soon decides he doesn’t mind if it means he gets to nurse a glass of wine while watching the muscles in Bokuto’s back flex as he carefully slices the fried pork and lays it back in the pan. 

They work in a companionable silence, aside from Bokuto giving Kei instructions every so often. Bokuto is relaxed and calm in the kitchen, clearly in his comfort zone and it’s strangely comforting to see his normally exuberant boyfriend looking almost serene as he moves from station to station in the shockingly pristine kitchen.

Bokuto carefully pours the bowl of beaten eggs over the pan of simmering pork, onions, and sauce and, without turning to face Kei, breaks the comfortable silence so suddenly Kei almost chokes on his wine.

“Did you talk to your brother today? Or your dad?”

“Uh…” Kei is taken aback, defenses raised immediately. Bokuto’s tone is indecipherable and he’s not sure what the other man wants or expects him to say. They’ve all been delicately ignoring the situation surrounding his family, but he supposes he should have known that Bokuto would be the one to break first. 

“I don’t...I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” Bokuto starts, and Kei bristles.

“But you’re going to anyway?”

“No! Not at all, I just think you should consider-”

“What? Forgiving them? What all did Akaashi even tell you?” Kei struggles to keep his voice even, his tone low. The last thing he wants to do is fight and the next-to-last thing he wants to do is alert the other two of any tension brewing. He knows he’s being irrational, knows he should at least give Bokuto the chance to finish what he wants to say before he jumps down his throat, but at this point it’s too late and he’s already guarded and agitated.

Bokuto moves the pan off the heat and crosses the kitchen in two strides. He plucks the wine glass out of Kei’s shaking hand and sets it gently on the counter before lacing their hands together. Kei fixes his eyes on a point somewhere over Bokuto’s head, an easy feat considering the 5 centimeter height difference and the fact that Bokuto’s hair is all soft and pushed out of his eyes with a headband rather than standing on end, as is the norm, to make up the difference.

“Hey,” Bokuto says, tugging on Kei’s hand gently; Kei spares a glance down at his boyfriend and is immediately chastened by the slight sadness behind those golden eyes. The knowledge that his words caused that look guts him and he wonders for the hundredth time why he can’t just be _normal_, why he has to be so quick to jump on the defensive and throw a wall up at the slightest hint that he’s going to hear something he doesn’t want to. Is this what Yamaguchi and Yachi have to put up with, too? Is this how they look at him when he snaps at them? Guilt unfurls itself in his gut and he feels a little like he might throw up. “Akaashi only told us what you told him, maybe not even all of it. And I’d rather hear it from you anyway. Kuroo too, probably.”

“I’m-”

“It’s fine, we don’t have to talk about it, not until you’re ready. We won’t push, but you have to know you’re not in this alone. And I just,” he pauses, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “I just don’t want this opportunity to pass you by. If there’s a chance for things with your family to work themselves out...I want that for you.” 

Kei sighs, closes his eyes. It’s easier to say what he’s been thinking all day if he’s not looking at Bokuto. His hands rest at his sides, fingers still intertwined with Bokuto’s, grounding him.

“Does it-” his voice cracks and he realizes how dangerously close he is to crying. Again. He clears his throat and tries again. “Does it make me a bad person...if I don’t want to?”

He opens his eyes; Bokuto is looking at him, expression unreadable. “If you don’t-”

“Forgive him. My...my dad,” he’s aware of the way his face twists in disgust as he says the word, but it’s a habit he doesn’t see himself breaking anytime soon. “Even if he asks? Or apologizes? If he’s changed? Does it make me a bad person if I don’t let him back in?”

And now that he’s finally said it, he realizes how much these questions have been eating away at him. How much he’s been living with this in the back of his mind, that his father could be on his deathbed and Kei would still want nothing to do with him but that he would inevitably forgive him out of familial duty and what kind of son thinks like that? What kind of person thinks like that? 

His words hang in the air for a moment and Kei wishes he could snatch them back and shove them back in his mouth, swallow them down and bury them back alongside every other ugly emotion he has. He’s been selfish, he realizes, because Bokuto doesn’t deserve to be put through this side of him. None of them do. His ray of light, his defender, his safe space (and just when did he start referring to them as ‘his’?)...they deserve better than what he can give them. 

“Hey, stop it.” A finger taps against his forehead, startling him, and he lifts his eyes to meet Kuroo’s gaze. He’s leaning against the counter next to Kei, eyes narrowed and lips turned slightly downwards. Akaashi fits himself behind Bokuto, winding his arms around Bo’s waist and resting his chin on a broad shoulder, watching them placidly.

“I didn’t-” 

“You didn’t have to say it. I can see those wheels turning and not in a good way.” Kuroo smooths his finger between Kei’s eyebrows, gently rubbing at the crease that feels like it’s been permanently stuck there since his father’s number first appeared on his caller ID. 

“I just-”

“Kei,” he says sternly, and Kei starts slightly at the sound of his given name coming out of Kuroo’s mouth, rather than the silly nickname he’s grown used to. “You’re not a bad person. You don’t have to forgive anyone, not your dad, not your brother. You have no obligation to allow a toxic person back in your life.” 

His eyes flick sharply over to Bokuto who, to his credit, looks a little sheepish. “Yeah,” he says, pressing in close to Kei, dragging Akaashi along behind him. He presses his face in the crook of Kei’s neck, muffling his voice a little, but Kei can still make out his next words and they make his heart clench. “I’m sorry, Tsukki, I wasn’t trying to push, I just...I hate seeing you hurt.” 

“Just know that we’re here, in whatever capacity you need us, whatever you decide to do,” Akaashi offers.

Kuroo moves in to wrap an arm around Kei’s waist and another around Akaashi’s, effectively enveloping the three of them in a warm, if slightly awkward, hug. The icy fist clenched around Kei’s gut thaws.

“Thanks,” he manages and, for a moment, he’s sure he’s going to break down. 

He’s saved by the loud growling of Kuroo’s stomach, choking out a watery laugh as they break apart and begin dishing out their dinner. Akaashi tops off Kei’s wine and, with a sly smile, grabs a second bottle for good measure.

Kei sits in his spot at the over-large coffee table, snug between Kuroo and Bokuto. Akaashi’s cheeks are flush pink with alcohol and Kei’s sure his are too, but it doesn’t matter because his heart thrums happily in his chest sounding for all the world like _home, home, home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a thought- I'm thinking my next post may be an ~interlude~ and will be presented as a standalone, connected to this one as part of a series, so if you aren't subbed to me as an author, please do so you don't miss out!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author gets deep into her KuroTsukki feels and projects some sibling angst onto our favorite boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves!
> 
> It's been a wild and wacky and not-so-fun few months but I promised I'd be back and here I am!
> 
> I hope everyone is staying sane and safe and I hope this update was worth the wait. This chapter is very KuroTsukki-centric but rest assured our boys will be all together in the next chapter!
> 
> I love you all and appreciate each and every one of you for sticking by my side through my wildly inconsistent posting. <3

Akiteru’s texts dramatically decrease in frequency over the next few days; Kei isn’t sure if it’s because he’s given up on trying to get a response, if he’s coming up with another tactic, or if he’s too busy handling the doctors and his father and the business, but either way Kei is grateful. He knows it can’t last, but he’s confirmed with Yachi and Yamaguchi that Aki hasn’t tried contacting them (at least he remembers how fiercely protective he is of his friends) so he’s ready to leave well enough alone for now and besides, that feels like a problem for Future Kei.

Kei doesn’t go back to work until Monday. He takes an extra-long weekend--most of it spent in bed--to reset with Kenma’s blessing. They’re in the lull between the end of summer and the time business will kick up again for the holiday season, so Kei only feels about a third of the guilt he normally would for taking so much unexpected time off. And besides, Kenma gets his payback when the first phone call after lunch is a request for assistance from the newest member of the accounting department.

Sitting at Lev’s computer, running the file restoration program, Kei can understand exactly why Kenma’s eye started twitching as soon as he had seen which extension had been calling. It’s uncanny, he thinks, how like Hinata this guy is; he barrages Kei with questions without pausing between to listen to the answers, flips between bouncing on his heels and crowding fully into Kei’s space over his shoulder, jabbing a finger at the screen.

The only thing that makes it bearable, actually, is the little snorts of laughter he hears drifting over from Kuroo’s cubicle next door whenever Lev asks a particularly asinine question. 

It kind of makes him want to punch Kuroo, but in a fond way.

“Lev!” Yaku snaps from across the aisle, and the other man jumps back like he’s been shocked.

“Oh, I forgot I have filing to do!” He shouts, his green eyes going wide. “Thank you for the help, sorry for the trouble, Tsukishima-san!” He gives a quick bow and is off before Kei can respond, trailing after Yaku as the shorter man gestures wildly to the stacks of paper sitting atop the filing cabinet.

Kei blows out a heavy breath, already feeling the headache receding with Lev gone. 

“Need an aspirin?” Kuroo’s head pops up from behind the cubicle divider as soon as Lev is out of earshot. He’s smirking and barely holding in his laughter at the pained look on Kei’s face, but Kei would be lying if he said that tousle of black hair wasn’t a welcome sight. 

“I’ll be fine. No thanks to you,” Kei huffs, looking back to the screen with a grimace. The file restoration is complete, but Kei doesn’t know how the man can find anything with approximately three dozen shortcuts and miscellaneous files littering the screen. He’s sorely tempted to start creating folders and organizing things, but that’s a rabbit hole he’s not sure he’s got time for.

“What did I do?” Kuroo squawks, and Kei bites back a smile.

“I’m not sure,” he hums, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen, double checking that all the files are where they should be. “But you are his superior and this is the third time in less than a week someone’s had to come restore files for him. So I’m sure there’s something.”

“What do you suggest?” 

Kei leans back in Lev’s chair, gazing back up at Kuroo. “Oh, I don’t know, Kuroo-san. It’s not really my place to tell you how you should exercise your authority.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Kuroo asks, and despite the teasing tone in his voice, his cheeks go a tiny bit pink. 

The look pleases Kei maybe a little more than it should in the workplace and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips as he stands, bringing himself eye-level with Kuroo. “Either way,” he says, breezing past Kuroo’s question, “it’s your responsibility to make sure he knows how to _not_ erase important documents completely.”

Kuroo leans forward, draping his arms over the cubicle divider and resting his chin on top of them, and looks Kei up and down in a way that is decidedly unprofessional. “Oh, but then I wouldn’t get to see you, Tsukki. And you know I love watching you work.”

It’s Kei’s turn to blush. He tries to tamper it with a scowl, but Kuroo’s low laugh tells him it’s less than successful. 

“You see me all the time,” he argues, slinging his bag over his shoulder and moving towards the door to the stairwell, tossing Yaku a wave over his shoulder as he goes.

Kuroo falls into step beside him, close enough that the backs of their hands brush as they walk; it’s a small touch, barely anything compared to the kisses they’ve shared, the weekend spent between the sheets, between Bokuto and Akaashi, but it’s still enough to send a warm little thrill down his spine. He wonders if that’ll ever go away. He hopes not.

“Yeah, but not at work,” Kuroo says, dumb smirk stll plastered over his face. “You’re so cute when you’re concentrating. Your nose goes all scrunchy and-”

“Shut _up_!” Kei hisses, stepping into the stairwell. “God, you’re embarrassing.”

As soon as the stairwell door swings closed, Kuroo crowds into Kei’s space, backing him up against the wall. “Can’t help it,” he murmurs, reaching out to twine their fingers together. “It’s your fault, you know.”

“You’re a menace,” Kei grumbles, but there’s no venom in it--there can’t be with Kuroo looking at him like _that_.

“You like it,” Kuroo laughs and, before Kei can open his mouth to argue just for the sake of arguing (because Kuroo’s right and they both know it, but Kei won’t admit that so easily), he leans forward to close the gap between their lips.

The kiss is soft, almost chaste (as close to chaste as Kuroo can get, anyway) and unhurried and, despite the little voice in the back of Kei’s head saying _you’re at _work_, idiot, control yourself_, he leans into it, slotting their lips together easily, curling his fingers around Kuroo’s tie and holding him close. When they finally part, Kei is pleased to see that Kuroo is just as out of breath as he is and he allows a small smile to settle over his still-tingling lips as he focuses on straightening Kuroo’s rumpled tie. 

“Are you always this inappropriate with your coworkers in the office, Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo leans in to press another kiss against Kei’s jaw. “Only my favorites,” he grins. “Why, you jealous?”

In answer, Kei gives Kuroo’s tie a sharp tug and arches an eyebrow.

“You make a solid point,” Kuroo laughs. “Guess we should both get back to work, huh?”

“Only if you want me home before midnight-” Kei freezes, the realization of what he’s just said hitting him like a ton of bricks. He groans inwardly, already backpedalling from the embarrassing admission; just because he thinks of Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kuroo’s apartment as ‘home’ doesn’t mean he needs them to know that. “I mean, your home, obviously. If-” 

Kuroo presses a finger to Kei’s lips and smiles, warm and fond. “Of course we want you home before midnight. I’ll be staying late tonight too...we can stop by and pick up dinner for everyone on our way home if you want?”

Kei nods and Kuroo drops his finger from his lips. “That would be nice,” he manages.

“It’s a date, then,” Kuroo says, giving Kei’s hand one last squeeze before disappearing behind the stairwell door.

Kei presses a hand to his lips, allowing the grin he’s been holding in to settle over his face. The expression feels more natural every day.

Summer is winding down and it makes the walk from the office less stifling and much more tolerable than it has been in a while. That, and the addition of Kuroo walking along next to him, chattering happily about the rest of his afternoon, what he wants for dinner, and their plans for the evening. It’s all terribly mundane, but that’s part of what makes it so comforting--the sheer normalcy of it all makes his chest tight and for a brief moment he’s afraid he might cry right there on the street. But he holds it together, and instead just relishes the sound of Kuroo’s voice, the press of his arm against Kei’s as they navigate through the crowd, the wide, pleased grin that stretches across Kuroo’s face when he hooks his pinkie subtly around Kei’s and squeezes.

“How about here?” Kuroo asks, gesturing to a little hole-in-the-wall sushi place at the end of the block. “They’re never too busy and we haven’t done sushi in forever.” 

Kei pretends to think about it. He doesn’t know why Kuroo is trying so hard to justify the option--Kei’s never particular about what or where they eat--but he’s unfairly cute when he pouts so he gives it an extra minute. 

“Sure,” he finally says. “But you’re buying.”

“I was already planning on it,” Kuroo grins, steering Kei into the small restaurant, all the while ignoring Kei’s protests that he was _just kidding, Kuroo, you’re not paying for me_.

As Kuroo predicted, the restaurant isn’t crowded, which Kei doesn’t understand--the food is good, inexpensive, and the service quick--but he hates waiting in line almost as much as he hates crowds, so he won’t complain about the lack of both. They step up to the counter and Kuroo rattles off their order--Kei’s not sure how or when he memorized his sushi order, but he’s also not surprised that he has--and pays before Kei can fumble his card out of his wallet.

They’re in and out in ten minutes. Or, they would have been were it not for the man entering the shop and running bodily into Kuroo on their way out the door, nearly knocking the bag of sushi out of his hand. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even-” the man pauses mid-apology as his eyes lock onto Kei’s. They’re the same dark, liquid gold as his own. His blonde hair is a few shades darker than Kei remembers, but still combed just as neatly as the last time he saw him, and he’s wearing a gray suit that looks rumpled and slept in. “Kei?” Akiteru utters his name like a question, like he’s not sure if the man standing in front of him looking just like him is actually his little brother and Kei’s stomach rolls with the sudden urge to throw up all over Akiteru’s shiny black shoes. He’s nauseous, but he still can’t decide if he wants to hug him, punch him, or just walk away and pretend like he didn’t hear him.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead, his voice tight as he turns towards Kuroo.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kuroo murmurs, rubbing his shoulder and gazing at Kei, a silent _‘Are you?’ _trapped behind his lips. His eyes flick sharply between the two brothers and Kei can see the calculations running through his head as he gauges the situation.

“I’m so sorry,” Akiteru says again and for a moment Kei’s not sure which one of them the apology is directed at, but then he sees that Akiteru is looking at Kuroo’s hand still absently rubbing his shoulder and he’s once again filled with the desire to punch his brother.

“We should go,” Kei mutters, shifting his bag on his shoulder and fixing his gaze on a point just over Akiteru’s shoulder. He’s between them and the door, but Kei hopes for once in his life his brother will take a hint and just let them pass without incident. Kei’s not sure how long he can stand in front of Akiteru without losing his composure. He’s surprised it hasn’t happened already, but the shock seems to have most of his words stuck somewhere in his throat, like he’s gulped down a bucket of sludge.

“Wait, Kei-” Akiteru reaches out a hand as if to grab Kei and stop him, but Kuroo is quicker, taking a small step forward and placing himself just slightly between them. Akiteru’s arm drops limply to his side and his mouth snaps shut. 

It’s not like Akiteru’s an easy man to intimidate, at least for people other than their father, but Kuroo has a good two inches on his brother and a fierce look on his face that almost makes Kei want to take pity on him. Almost.

“Kei, I just want to talk,” Akiteru tries again, shoving his hands in his pockets and leveling his gaze on Kei. 

That tightness in his chest is back and he’s disgusted to feel tears burning the backs of his eyes. He can’t meet Akiteru’s gaze, but he can feel his eyes boring holes into him and he can pluck the expression on his brother’s face from his memory like it’s been no time at all. It’s infuriating that it’s been years since they’ve seen each other, that Kei is a grown man with a good job and a good life and his brother can still make him feel like a little kid with just a look. 

Just one of the many talents he’s inherited from their father, Kei supposes.

_Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic._

He isn’t aware that his own hand is fisted so tightly that his nails are biting little crescent-moon marks into his palm until he feels Kuroo’s warm palm slide smoothly into his own and squeeze. 

“If you’ll excuse us,” Kuroo says, nodding towards the door. His tone is polite, but cold and final, and Akiteru’s mouth twists unhappily as he glances between Kuroo and Kei and their joined hands. 

“Kei, please, I’m-” his voice cracks and Kei’s head jerks up to meet his eyes. An expression Kei’s never seen crosses Akiteru’s face--part sorrow, part guilt, and part desperation to not let the opportunity he’s faced with to slip through his fingers. It’s then that Kei notices the dark shadows under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders that make him look somehow smaller than he remembers Akiteru ever being.

He glances back to Kuroo and Akiteru can only watch helplessly as an entire silent conversation is held in front of him.

_What do you want to do? _asks a lift of Kuroo’s eyebrow.

Kei answers with a lift of his shoulder. _I’m not sure._

_I’ll kick his ass, if you want,_ Kuroo’s responding head tilt says.

Kei only has to answer that with a roll of his eyes and Kuroo squeezes his hand again in a way that clearly says, _Whatever you need, I’m with you. _We’re _with you._

“Fine,” he says after a moment, and he’s proud of how strong his voice comes out. Akiteru’s face flashes between surprise and relief before settling into a wide smile.

“O-okay! Great, when are you-” he says, fumbling his phone out of his pocket and pulling up his calendar. 

“Tonight,” Kei says, lifting an eyebrow when Akiteru makes a little noise of surprise. “We’ll wait outside for you to get your food and we can talk back at-” he glances to Kuroo, who gives a little nod, “at our place,” he finishes, enjoying the way the words feel in his mouth, despite the situation.

“Oh, well,” Akiteru licks his lips, glancing back and forth between Kei and Kuroo, “I don’t want to intrude on your dinner. We can get together another time, Kei, maybe later this week?”

“I’d take the offer if I were you,” Kuroo says, giving Akiteru a long look. “Our Tsukki’s a busy guy.” 

Kei shrugs his shoulders. “It’s up to you, Aki. I can’t rearrange my schedule for you and we’ve got hungry people at home waiting for us.”

“Ah,” Akiteru says, and Kei can see the gears grinding in his head as he tries to work out what kind of dynamic he’s going to be walking into. “Are you sure I won’t be-”

“I wouldn’t have offered if that were the case,” Kei says, a bit more gently this time, just because he wants this conversation to be over, wants to be sitting at the low table in the living room between Bokuto and Kuroo, sharing a bottle of wine with Akaashi (God knows he needs it after today), and not standing uncomfortably close to his brother.

“Okay,” he agrees tentatively, and this time it’s Akiteru who can barely make eye contact with Kei. “Thank you, Kei,” he says quietly, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

Kei nods once and brushes past Akiteru, Kuroo in tow. Once they’re outside, it’s like all the strength of the last two minutes has been sapped from his body and he sags against Kuroo’s chest, allowing his boyfriend to wrap his arms around his waist and rest his cheek against his hair.

“It’s alright,” Kuroo murmurs against his hair, between featherlight kisses pressed against his temple. “We’re with you, Tsukki.”


End file.
